Chapter 15 - THE CELLBLOCK VISIT
The fluorescent lights of the county detention facility buzzed with a dull, sickening drone. The visitor's booth smelled of industrial bleach and stagnant air.
When the guard shoved Lydia through the steel door, I barely recognized my younger sister. The designer couture and flawless blowouts were gone. Her skin was sallow, her manicured acrylics chipped down to the quick, and her designer hair was matted into a greasy knot. But the venom in her eyes hadn't faded.
She slammed the metal chair back and snatched up the plastic telephone receiver on her side of the partition.
"Come to gloat, Meredith?" Lydia spat into the receiver, her voice crackling through the earpiece. "Come to parade your ugly little scar in front of me? Enjoy your victory while you can. My legal team is filing for bail reduction in the morning. When I get out, I'm taking the house. I'm taking everything Dad owed me."
I didn't blink. I picked up my receiver and pressed it to my ear. "Sterling flipped three hours ago, Lydia. He handed over the Swiss vault codes."
A flicker of hesitation crossed her face, but she forced a mocking smirk. "Sterling is an idiot. He doesn't know half of what we set up."
"You're right," I said quietly, leaning against the glass. "He didn't know everything. But neither did you."
I held Julian’s tablet flat against the bulletproof partition. On the screen was the scanned contract from Geneva, highlighted at the clause detailing the distribution of Red Oak Holdings upon the liquidation of Vance Timberline.
"Read section nine, Lydia."
She squinted through the scratched glass, her arrogant grin slowly dissolving as her eyes tracked across the paragraphs.
*“In the event of the legal incapacitation, criminal conviction, or death of secondary proxy Lydia Vance, all residual assets, trust stipends, and real estate claims shall immediately revert in perpetuity to the sole beneficial owner: Victoria Vance-Holloway.”*
Lydia pulled the phone away from her ear as if it had burned her, then jammed it back against her head. "This... this is fake. You fabricated this with Julian."
"Aunt Victoria set up that shell company when you were sixteen years old, Lydia," I said, keeping my voice utterly level. "Every time she sent you vintage jewelry from Europe, every time she whispered in your ear that Dad favored me and that you deserved the entire inheritance, she was grooming you to become her legal battering ram. She knew you were greedy enough and reckless enough to commit a felony. She counted on you destroying me—and then destroying yourself."
"No," Lydia stammered, her hands beginning to tremble against the plastic counter. "No! Aunt Victoria loved me! She told me I was the only true Vance who understood ambition! She paid for my defense counsel retainer!"
"That defense counsel didn't file your bail motion, did they?" I pressed. "Check your commissary account, Lydia. The lawyer withdrew his representation at four o'clock this afternoon. Victoria cut the funding the second the state froze Sterling's accounts."
Lydia’s breath turned into ragged, choking gasps. She looked around the grim cinderblock room, the reality of her isolation finally crashing down upon her. The arrogance that had fueled her for years withered into pure, naked terror.
"She told me... she told me that if I threw the drink, they'd classify it as a misdemeanor assault," Lydia whispered, tears carving clean streaks through the grime on her cheeks. "She told me the compound in the glass was just an irritant... that it would only ruin your face for a few months so you couldn't attend the proxy shareholder gala. She gave me the vial!"
My heart hammered against my ribs. "Victoria gave you the caustic agent?"
"She had it delivered to my penthouse in an unlabeled cosmetic jar," Lydia wept, pressing both palms against the glass. "Meredith, please... she told me that if anything went wrong, she would wire two million dollars to my account in the Caymans. I didn't know she was writing me out of the trust! I didn't know!"
"Where is the shipping receipt, Lydia?" I demanded, leaning so close my breath fogged the glass. "Where did the delivery come from?"
Lydia swallowed hard, her chest heaving. "Under the floorboards of my vanity in the downtown apartment. The key to the lockbox is hidden inside the false heel of my velvet Saint Laurent boots. The green ones. Take it. Meredith, please don't leave me in here. She's going to kill me to keep me quiet!"
I set the receiver down on the counter. Through the glass, Lydia sobbed hysterically, begging for mercy she had never once shown me.
May you like
I turned my back on her and walked through the heavy security doors.
***