Chapter 3 - The Cold WakeBack in Manhattan, the Vance penthouse was drowning in quiet fury.
Julian stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass wall where Amy had stood only seventy-two hours prior. Down below, Central Park lay under gray, late-autumn drizzle. On the low glass coffee table behind him sat the ring, gleaming under recessed spotlights like an accusatory eye.
"What do you mean, her bank accounts haven't been touched?" Julian’s voice was dangerously low, vibrating with the strain of a man who believed every human being had an IP address and a transaction record.
His private investigator, Marcus Kane, stood near the foyer, flipping through a thin manila folder. "Her primary credit lines were cancelled by her own signature on Thursday morning. The joint trust was never drawn from. Her cell phone was left on the dresser in the guest bedroom, fully wiped to factory settings. She didn't call an Uber, she didn't book a commercial flight, and she didn't check into any hotel within the tri-state area."
Eleanor Vance sat on the silk settee, her face drawn, looking ten years older than she had on the night of the gala. She hadn't taken off her pearls, but her hands were clasped so tightly her knuckles were white.
"She gave me the ring, Julian," Eleanor said, her voice shaking with an uncharacteristic crack. "She didn't scream. She didn't throw a scene. She looked right through me. A woman who screams is angry; she can be bought back, reasoned with, or silenced. A woman who looks at you like you are made of air is already gone."
"She’s carrying my child!" Julian roared, slamming his fist onto the marble mantelpiece. The sound echoed through the sterile apartment. "She thinks she can vanish into thin air with an heir to this firm? With my son?"
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"You don't even know if it's a son," Eleanor said quietly, looking down at the carpet. "You never went to the appointments with her, Julian. You sent your assistant with a car service. You were in Milan with the Laurent family while she was sitting in waiting rooms alone. Do you really believe she owes you an heir?"
Julian stared at his mother, his jaw tight, his pulse pounding against his collar. For the first time in his sheltered, privileged existence, Julian Vance realized there were things his father’s money could not instantly summon back into the room.
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