Chapter 4 - Shadows in the Penthouse
Midnight in Manhattan brought no peace to the Vance penthouse. While the city below hummed with the endless roar of traffic and neon lights, the interior of the apartment was wrapped in an uneasy, watchful silence.
Julian sat on the edge of the guest room bed, staring out the massive floor-to-ceiling window at the glowing skyline. For seventeen years, his bed had been a concrete stoop beneath an awning, a damp park bench, or the corner of an abandoned subway station. Now, surrounded by silk sheets, custom woodwork, and the quiet hum of climate control, he felt more displaced than ever.
A soft knock at the door broke his reverie.
Jonathan slipped into the room, holding a laptop in one hand and two cups of hot chocolate in the other. He offered one to Julian with a hesitant, brotherly smile.
“You’re not sleeping either, huh?” Jonathan asked, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.
Julian took the mug, his fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic. “Hard to sleep when you spend your whole life sleeping with one eye open,” he murmured, taking a small sip. He looked over at Jonathan. “It’s weird. Seeing you. It’s like looking into a funhouse mirror, except the reflection is breathing on its own.”
“We’re going to figure this out, Julian,” Jonathan said firmly, opening the laptop screen. “I’ve been digging into the medical archives from St. Jude’s Clinic in Geneva. Uncle Arthur was on the board of directors back then. Not only that, but he was the primary financial signatory for the hospital’s pediatric research fund.”
Julian leaned in closer, the glow of the screen illuminating their identical faces. “What does that mean?”
“It means he had motive, access, and the power to falsify birth and death certificates,” Jonathan explained, tapping the trackpad. “Look at this scanned document from fifteen years ago. The attending physician who signed your death certificate wasn't an independent doctor. It was Dr. Alistair Vance—Arthur’s personal physician and mentor.”
Before Julian could respond, a soft beep echoed from the hallway outside.
Jonathan froze. He stood up slowly and crept to the bedroom door, peering out into the darkened corridor.
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The smart-home security panel near the foyer was flashing a soft blue light.
Someone had just accessed the private service elevator using an override code. A master code that only three people in the world possessed: Helen, Arthur, and the head of household security.
