Chapter 2 - The Severed Ties, The Midnight Oxygen Tank, And The Will In The Vault
"DAD!"
Daniel lunged into the vault, dropping to his knees on the cold stone. His hands trembled violently as he peeled the duct tape from his father’s cracked, bleeding lips.
Arthur Sterling let out a ragged, whistling breath, his rheumy blue eyes blinking against the sudden intrusion of light. His skin was gray, clammy with fever, and his breathing rattled dangerously inside his chest.
"Water..." Arthur croaked, his voice a ruined whisper. "Daniel... the... the documents..."
"Get the first aid kit! Call an ambulance! NOW!" Daniel roared, turning toward the library.
Claire was already on her knees beside them, her hands flying to the elderly man’s pulse. "His heart rate is over one hundred and forty. He’s severely dehydrated. Daniel, we need bolt cutters for these chains!"
Julian stood frozen on the other side of the shredded portrait. His eyes darted toward the library doors, then down at the briefcase on the desk containing the probate papers.
"Julian!" Daniel shouted, stepping back into the light, his fists clenched into trembling stones of fury. "Where is the key to these shackles?! What did you do to him?!"
Julian took two slow steps backward toward the exit, his hand slipping inside his suit jacket. "Daniel, you don't understand the corporate situation. Father was going to liquidate the shipping terminals in Rotterdam. He was going to disinherit the entire commercial trust. He was losing his mind!"
"You put our father in a wall to rot while you forged his death certificate?!" Daniel lunged forward, closing the distance in a fraction of a second.
He grabbed Julian by the lapels of his thousand-dollar suit, slamming him against the wall of leather-bound books. Shelves rattled; several first-edition volumes tumbled to the floor.
"WHERE IS THE KEY?!" Daniel snarled into his brother's face, his spit flying onto Julian’s pale cheek.
"In my desk... bottom drawer," Julian gasped, choking as Daniel’s grip tightened around his throat. "It was just business, Daniel! I wasn't going to let him die! I had a medical team coming tonight to move him to a private clinic in upstate—"
"You're a monster," Claire spat from the doorway of the vault.
Leo stood beside the shattered painting, clutching the wooden croquet mallet against his chest, his eyes wide and burning with a terrifying intensity. "Bad man," the boy whispered. "You told me Grandpa went to sleep forever. You're a liar."
Daniel ripped the master keys from Julian’s belt, threw his half-brother onto the sofa with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs, and rushed back into the vault.
With two sharp clicks, the heavy steel cuffs fell away from Arthur’s swollen wrists.
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The elderly patriarch slumped forward against Daniel’s shoulder. Despite his profound weakness, his frail hand reached out, his long fingers digging into Daniel’s forearm with surprising, desperate strength.
"The safe..." Arthur wheezed into Daniel’s ear, his voice trembling with urgency. "Behind the floorboards... under my stool. Daniel... do not let Julian take the blue ledger. It has the names... all of them."
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