Chapter 17 - The Stand-off at the Gates
When we arrived at the estate gates, two county sheriff patrol cars were already parked beside the black town car.
Blue and red emergency lights flashed across the manicured hedges and weeping willows.
Dad was standing at the wrought-iron gate, his chest heaving, blocking a deputy sheriff.
Isabella stood behind the officer, wearing an expensive camel-hair coat, her face pale, sharp, and smug.
She looked composed, like a legitimate victim claiming her legal rights.
"Mr. Vance, step aside," the deputy was saying. "We have a court-ordered protective custody writ for the infant Elena Vance, signed by Judge Hastings."
"Judge Hastings is a paid puppet of my father's old trust!" Dad roared, his voice booming over the rain. "This woman attempted to kidnap that child three weeks ago!"
"The charges were dismissed without prejudice due to lack of chain of custody on the hospital records, sir," the second deputy replied firmly. "Step aside or you will be arrested for obstruction."
Marcello and I threw open our car doors, splashing into the mud.
"Wait!" I yelled, waving the leather-bound ledger above my head. "Officer, look at this before you touch that baby!"
Isabella’s smug expression flickered with panic when she saw the antique ledger in my hand.
"Officer, ignore her," Isabella said sharply. "She’s a hostile family member trying to prevent the execution of a valid court order."
"Isabella," Marcello said, stepping directly in front of her, his voice chillingly calm. "Or should I call you cousin Isabella?"
Isabella’s jaw twitched.
"You don't know what you're talking about," she hissed under her breath.
"Locker 414 at Route 9 depot," I declared loudly so both deputies could hear. "Adrian Vance's personal archives. Including the legal proof that Judge Hastings received illegal deposits from the offshore Vance Cayman account forty-eight hours ago."
The senior deputy paused, looking between Isabella and the worn ledger in my hand.
"What is she talking about, Ms. Vance?" the deputy asked, his hand coming off his holster.
"It’s a fabrication!" Isabella snapped, losing her composed facade.
Just then, the front door of the mansion opened.
May you like
Mom stepped out onto the porch holding baby Elena.
And right beside her walked Lily, holding a bright yellow plastic folder.
