Chapter 2 - The Vultures Circle
Inside the foyer,
the tension,
had not dissipated,
it had simply,
transformed,
into a predatory,
anticipation.
Victoria smoothed,
her silk dress,
her breathing,
returning to,
a calm,
rhythmic pace.
Julian,
still vibrating,
with the adrenaline,
of the shove,
poured himself,
a drink,
from the crystal decanter,
on the side table.
That was messy,
Victoria said,
her tone,
dismissive,
as she looked,
at the broken glass,
strewn across,
the floor.
Julian smirked,
taking a sip,
of the amber liquid.
It was necessary,
mother,
he countered,
his voice,
smooth and oily.
He needed to know,
his place,
before the lawyers,
even arrived.
Victoria walked,
to the window,
peering out,
into the darkness,
though she,
could see nothing,
but the reflection,
of the room,
and her own,
unwavering image.
The lawyer,
Mr. Henderson,
should be here,
any minute,
she noted,
checking her,
diamond-encrusted watch.
She turned,
to face Julian,
her expression,
hardening into,
something sharp,
and calculating.
You know,
what is at stake,
Julian.
If there,
are any loose ends,
if there,
is any possibility,
of a contest,
we must,
neutralize it,
immediately.
Julian nodded,
swirling the drink,
in his hand.
I have already,
spoken to,
our associates,
at the firm.
They are,
prepared,
to facilitate,
the transfer,
of assets,
without delay.
There will be,
no contest,
because there,
will be nothing,
for him,
to contest.
Victoria felt,
a ripple,
of satisfaction,
though she,
kept her face,
composed,
and unreadable.
Arthur was,
a difficult man,
she admitted,
almost to herself.
He was sentimental,
about that,
miserable boy,
for too long.
But he is dead,
and his sentiment,
died with him.
Just then,
the heavy,
front doors,
opened again,
admitting a gust,
of cold wind,
and rain.
Mr. Henderson,
the family attorney,
a man,
whose face,
was etched,
with decades,
of secrets,
stepped inside,
carrying a leather,
briefcase.
He looked,
at the shattered,
display case,
at the red wine,
staining the floor,
and then,
at the mother,
and son,
with a look,
of weary,
disapproval.
Good evening,
Victoria,
Julian,
he said,
his voice,
gravelly,
and tired.
I trust,
the arrangements,
are proceeding,
as expected.
Victoria smiled,
a tight,
hollow expression,
that did not,
reach her eyes.
Everything is,
in order,
Mr. Henderson.
We are ready,
to begin,
the reading,
of the will.
Henderson walked,
into the library,
the room,
where Arthur,
had spent,
his final,
conscious hours.
It was a room,
filled with,
the scent,
of old paper,
leather bindings,
and the lingering,
aroma,
of pipe tobacco.
The walls,
were lined,
with thousands,
of books,
volumes of history,
finance,
and philosophy,
that Arthur,
had collected,
over a lifetime.
Julian and Victoria,
followed him,
seating themselves,
in the velvet,
armchairs,
opposite the,
mahogany desk.
They looked,
like monarchs,
waiting to claim,
their throne,
their posture,
stiff with,
unspoken greed.
Henderson opened,
the briefcase,
placing the,
documents,
on the desk,
with deliberate,
slow movements.
Arthur Sterling,
was a man,
of surprises,
he said,
almost warningly.
He understood,
the nature,
of wealth,
and the weight,
of responsibility.
He did not,
take this,
testament,
lightly.
Victoria waved,
a hand,
impatiently.
We are well aware,
of Arthur's,
eccentricities,
Mr. Henderson.
Just get on,
with it.
Julian shifted,
eagerly,
in his chair.
Yes,
let's see,
what the old man,
left behind.
Henderson sighed,
adjusting his,
glasses,
and began,
to read,
the opening,
clauses.
The legal jargon,
was tedious,
filled with,
references to,
trusts,
holdings,
and offshore,
accounts.
It was a language,
of vast,
untold wealth,
that made,
Julian's eyes,
light up,
with a hungry,
fire.
Then,
Henderson reached,
the final,
page,
the part,
that actually,
mattered.
The atmosphere,
in the room,
seemed to,
grow heavy,
the air,
thick with,
unspoken tension.
To my son,
Ethan,
Henderson read,
his voice,
unwavering,
though he,
glanced up,
for a brief,
moment,
at the two,
occupants,
of the room.
I leave,
the sum of,
one dollar,
and my,
unfailing disappointment.
Silence descended,
like a physical,
weight.
Victoria blinked,
her expression,
shifting from,
arrogance,
to confusion,
then to,
a sharp,
gleeful triumph.
Julian burst,
into a loud,
crude laugh,
slapping his,
knee.
One dollar?
He choked out,
tears of laughter,
gathering in,
his eyes.
He truly,
meant it.
The old fool,
actually meant,
it.
Victoria smiled,
a genuine,
dangerous smile,
that was far,
more terrifying,
than her,
previous scowl.
It seems,
Arthur had,
more sense,
than I gave,
him credit for.
Mr. Henderson,
however,
did not join,
in their mirth.
He continued,
reading,
his voice,
impassively,
droning on.
However,
there is,
an amendment,
an addendum,
to this clause,
that must,
be addressed.
Julian's laughter,
died,
in his throat.
What?
He asked,
his voice,
suddenly thin.
Henderson looked,
down at the,
document,
his expression,
serious.
To the contents,
of the safe,
located behind,
the portrait,
of the ship,
the 'Sea Mist',
I leave everything else,
on the condition,
that the key,
is found,
by the beneficiary,
within seven days.
If not,
the entire estate,
is to be,
liquidated,
and donated,
to charity.
Victoria stood up,
her chair,
scraping loudly,
against the,
hardwood floor.
What?
She shrieked,
her face,
turning pale.
What kind,
of sick game,
is this?
Henderson looked,
at her,
calmly.
Arthur Sterling's,
game,
Victoria.
The one,
we are all,
May you like
now forced,
to play.
