Chapter 4 - The Midnight Visitor: Why Did the Stanford Family Attorney Knock on a Rundown Door?
Corbin pulled back deeper into the rain-slicked shadows of the maple tree, his mind racing.
Arthur Vance was a man who charged twelve hundred dollars an hour. He did not make house calls. He certainly did not visit low-income rental properties in South Providence unless an immense sum of money or a lethal corporate secret was at stake.
Corbin watched through the rain as Vance smoothed the lapels of his cashmere coat, signaled his chauffeur to remain by the vehicle, and walked up the creaking wooden porch steps of Lianna’s house.
Vance did not ring the buzzer like a normal visitor. He rapped his knuckles against the heavy oak door three times with deliberate, authoritative rhythm.
Inside the living room, Corbin saw Lianna hand the baby back to her mother with a look of visible tension. Her posture stiffened. She wiped her hands on her trousers, walked into the hallway, and opened the door.
Corbin could not hear their words over the drumming rain, but Lianna did not invite Vance inside. She stepped out onto the sheltered porch, pulling the screen door shut behind her. Her body language was defensive—arms crossed tightly over her chest, chin raised with defiant exhaustion.
Vance spoke calmly, his face impassive, the seasoned expression of an apex predator used to manipulating corporate boards and helpless litigants. He opened his slim leather briefcase, withdrew a thick legal document, and extended it toward Lianna along with a gold fountain pen.
Lianna shook her head emphatically.
She took a step back, her voice suddenly piercing the cold air between the gusts of wind:
“I told you four months ago, Mr. Vance! I will never sign it! You took Samuel away from me, and you took his name! You will not take his son’s future too!”
Vance did not raise his voice. He leaned in closer, his tone low and chillingly measured. Though Corbin couldn't make out every syllable, Vance’s condescending posture was unmistakable. He pointed a finger toward the window where Lianna’s mother stood holding baby Austin, then tapped the document against his palm.
Lianna looked at the document with open disgust. Then, to Corbin’s utter astonishment, she reached into her coat pocket, pulled out an old, faded, legal-sized blue envelope, and held it up directly in front of Vance’s face.
The sight of that blue envelope produced an immediate, violent reaction in the veteran attorney.
Vance’s composure shattered. He lunged forward, his hand snapping out to snatch the envelope from her fingers, but Lianna was faster. She pulled it back, tucked it securely inside her coat, and took another step toward her doorway.
Vance’s face darkened with fury. He pointed an accusatory finger at her, his voice rising in anger:
“You think that paper will save you, Lianna? That envelope is a death warrant if Richard ever discovers you kept a copy! You are living on borrowed time. Sign the surrender papers, take the five hundred thousand dollars, and move Austin to the West Coast where no Stanford will ever lay eyes on him. If you refuse, the eviction notice sitting at the county courthouse will be filed tomorrow morning. You and that child will be on the street by Thanksgiving!”
Lianna stood tall despite her trembling frame.
“Get off my porch, Arthur,” she said with iron finality. “Get off my porch before I call the police and show them what’s inside this envelope.”
Vance stared at her with cold, venomous malice.
“The police work for people with money, Mrs. Prescott. You don't have twenty dollars to your name. We’ll see how long your courage lasts when the winter freezes your radiators.”
Vance spun on his heel, stormed down the wooden steps, and entered the Maybach. The heavy car door slammed shut with a muffled thud of German engineering, and the luxury sedan sped away into the stormy night.
Lianna remained on the porch for nearly thirty seconds, her head bowed, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Finally, she turned, unlocked her front door, and vanished inside.
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Across the street, hidden in the darkness, Corbin felt a wave of cold fury ignite within his chest.
Uncle Richard and Arthur Vance were blackmailing Samuel’s widow. They were trying to force her to sign away her son’s rights. And whatever was inside that faded blue envelope was the key to unlocking the entire four-year-old lie.
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