Chapter 5 - The Vance Foundation
The inspector stared at him, stunned. "That’s impossible! The foreclosure was finalized three hours ago! This property belongs to First National Bank!"
Victor pulled a pen from his breast pocket, casually clicking it. "First National Bank was acquired by Vance Holding Group at four-thirty this afternoon. I bought the bank, Miss... Reynolds, was it?"
He reached into his coat, pulled out a second document, and tossed it down the steps. It landed at Detective Miller’s feet.
"That is a certified transfer of guardianship filed through the Suffolk County Probate Court," Victor said. "Every child in that house is now under the private care of my estate, fully funded, fully insured, and fully protected under private trust laws."
Detective Miller picked up the paper, his eyes scanning the official gold stamp at the bottom. His face turned sour. "You think you can just buy nine kids, Vance?"
"I didn't buy them," Victor said coldly. "I gave them a home. Now, unless you have a warrant signed by a federal judge that supersedes a county trust, you are trespassing on private property."
From the shadows down the street, two more black SUVs pulled up, blocking the police cruisers from behind. Eight men in dark suits stepped out, standing quietly on the sidewalk, their hands folded before them.
Detective Miller looked at Victor, then looked at the nine men surrounding his officers. He knew how the city worked. He knew that fighting Victor Vance over a clerical foster dispute on a Thursday night was a career-ending nightmare.
"This isn't over, Vance," Miller growled, crumbling the paper in his fist. "Social Services will review this trust!"
"Let them review it," Victor replied calmly. "My lawyers work twenty-four hours a day. Yours go home at five."
Miller turned to his officers. "Fall back. We're done here."
The police and social workers retreated angrily into their vehicles, U-turned over the icy pavement, and sped away into the night.
Inside the house, I leaned against the wall, my legs shaking so violently I thought I was going to collapse. The kids were staring out the window in absolute shock.
The front door opened, and Victor stepped back inside, sweeping the cold draft away as he shut the door behind him.
He looked at me, then looked at the nine kids standing in the hallway.
"The heater is dead," Victor stated flatly, looking at the ice forming on the inside of the hallway window.
"I... I know," I stuttered, holding my coat tight around myself. "I was going to get it fixed—"
"Pack their bags," Victor interrupted.
My heart spiked again. "What? No! I told you, I'm not letting you separate them!"
"I'm not separating anyone," Victor said, looking at me with those piercing gray eyes. "My estate in Beacon Hill has fourteen bedrooms, a central heating system that works, and a private chef who is currently making hot chocolate. We are leaving in ten minutes."
I blinked, paralyzed. "Beacon Hill?"
"Unless you prefer to let them freeze here tonight to prove a point?" Victor asked, raising an eyebrow.
May you like
I looked down at five-year-old Bibi, who was shivering so hard her teeth were clicking. I looked at Jamal, who was still holding his taped-up flashlight.
"Kids," I breathed, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Go pack your clothes. Every single thing you own."
