Chapter 10 - An Uninvited Guest with Proof
On Wednesday afternoon, two days before the emergency family court hearing, Graham received a visit at his corporate office in Midtown Manhattan.
His executive assistant buzzed the intercom: "Mr. Grant, there is a gentleman named Thomas Callahan here to see you. He says he was retained by Elena Grant's father four years ago."
Graham’s chest tightened. Elena’s father, Marcus Ward, had passed away six months before Elena did, but Marcus had always been intensely protective of his daughter’s legacy.
"Send him in immediately," Graham said.
Thomas Callahan was a weathered man in his sixties with sharp grey eyes, wearing a worn trench coat and carrying a thick canvas courier bag. He walked into Graham’s corner office, closed the door behind him, and placed the bag on Graham's desk without shaking hands.
"Graham," Callahan said gruffly. "Elena’s father hired me when he first noticed Sloane Vance circling around your social circles right after Elena's diagnosis went public. Old man Ward had a sixth sense for vultures."
"What did you find?" Graham asked, staring at the bag.
"Everything the police missed in Chicago," Callahan replied, pulling out a stack of medical records, bank wire transfers, and surveillance photographs. "Richard Thorne didn't die of a heart attack on that yacht. Sloane had been micro-dosing his evening bourbon with concentrated digitalis for five months. The coroner in Cook County was a close personal friend of Arthur Vance. They buried Thorne before an autopsy could be demanded, and the son was kept in a private facility in Wisconsin until he signed away his inheritance rights on his eighteenth birthday."
Graham felt a chill run down his spine. "She was going to kill me."
"Of course she was," Callahan said flatly. "Look at the life insurance policies she submitted to your corporate underwriting team two weeks ago. She added a sixty-million-dollar key-man rider on your life, payable to the Vance & Mercer trust management account in the event of accidental death or sudden medical failure. If you had married her on Saturday, you wouldn't have survived to celebrate your first anniversary."
Graham looked at the surveillance photos Callahan had spread out. There were pictures of Sloane meeting with Dr. Robert Albright in secluded restaurants, handing over envelopes of cash to the medical staff at Oakridge Academy, and dining with Arthur Vance while reviewing the Grant trust ledgers.
"Why didn't you bring this to me sooner, Callahan?" Graham asked, his voice shaking with raw intensity.
"Because old man Ward died, Elena died, and you were so deep in your grief you wouldn't have believed me without undeniable proof," Callahan answered honestly. "You thought Sloane was your savior. But now you’ve seen the chain with your own eyes. You’re ready to hear the truth."
May you like
Graham gathered the documents, packing them neatly into his briefcase.
"Call Julian Sterling," Graham said, picking up his coat. "Tell him the emergency hearing on Friday isn't just about custody. It’s an execution."
