Chapter 5 - The Fortress of Truth
Thirty minutes later, we arrived at the child advocacy center where my best friend, Maya, was waiting with Paisley.
The moment the heavy glass doors opened, a tiny voice shouted, "Mommy!"
Paisley rushed toward me, her little sneakers lighting up with every step. I fell to my knees, opening my arms wide, burying my face into the curve of her neck. She smelled like baby shampoo, lavender lotion, and safety. The angry red mark across her cheek was beginning to darken into a purple bruise, a sickening shadow against her pale porcelain skin, but she was smiling.
"I got stickers, Mommy! Look, a star!" she giggled, holding up her tiny hand to show me a glittery gold sticker.
"You are my bravest little star," I whispered, holding back tears so she wouldn't see me break. Children absorb our panic like sponges; I refused to let her carry the weight of my terror.
Maya stood nearby, her arms crossed, her eyes brimming with fierce loyalty. Maya had been an investigative paralegal for eight years. When I texted her the leaked San Diego files, she had immediately fired up her laptop in the waiting room.
"Kallie, I looked into the sender," Maya murmured as Paisley wandered over to play with a wooden train set on the carpet. "The email routing came from an IP address inside Vance & Sons Holdings."
I blinked in shock. "What? Someone inside my father’s firm sent that?"
"Yes," Maya said, lowering her voice. "Someone who works in corporate accounting. And look at this—" She handed me her tablet. "There aren't just one or two hush-money payouts. Over the last seven years, your father has authorized over six hundred thousand dollars in 'settlements' and 'severance packages' to cover up Seth’s temper tantrums. Broken laptops thrown at interns, punched drywall during board meetings, sexual harassment settlements, and that child assault in San Diego."
"My father didn't just protect Seth," I realized aloud, horror creeping up my spine. "He built a fortress of lies to enable a monster."
"And that fortress has cracks," Maya said with a dark smile. "I got a message through my legal network ten minutes ago. Elena Gomez—the mother of that little boy from San Diego five years ago? She saw the viral video of Seth being arrested today. She wants to talk to you. The NDA your father forced her to sign had a clause saying it was void if Seth re-offended against a minor."
The puzzle pieces were crashing together faster than the Vance empire could patch them. For decades, Robert Vance operated on the principle that cash bought silence, and family blood demanded complicity. Whenever Seth hurt someone, our mother made excuses, and our father opened his checkbook. When I was younger, Seth had pushed me down the stairs because I wouldn't do his homework; my parents told me I had tripped and warned me never to embarrass Seth again.
I had spent my entire life gaslit into believing that preserving the Vance family name was more important than my own safety.
*Not for my daughter,* I swore inwardly. *Never for her.*
"Connect me with Elena," I told Maya. "Give her Detective Miller’s number too. Let’s make sure Seth Vance never has the chance to lay his hands on another innocent soul."
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Suddenly, the front desk intercom buzzed. The receptionist picked it up, listened for a few seconds, and then glanced anxiously toward my corner of the room.
"Mrs. Vance? There’s a man in an expensive suit outside. He says he represents Vance & Sons, and he has an emergency court order."