Chapter 5 - The Locked Bedroom in Sterling Mansion
While Julian sat chained in the dark basement, miles away in the heavily fortified Upper East Side mansion, Elena Sterling sat in her wheelchair inside her private bedroom, staring at the closed double doors.
Her father had placed two armed private guards outside her suite, ostensibly for her protection, but Elena knew the truth. She was a prisoner in her own home.
She rolled her chair over to her antique oak writing desk. Resting on the blotter was an old, leather-bound family album from 2005—the year before the tragic laboratory fire that supposedly claimed the lives of both Dr. Aaron Vance and his wife.
Her fingers trembled as she flipped open the cover.
There were pictures of her father and Dr. Aaron Vance standing side by side in white lab coats, smiling warmly as they held up a glowing prototype vial of the groundbreaking neural formula. On the back of the photograph, written in her mother’s neat cursive, were the words: Richard and Aaron—partners in changing the world forever.
Elena stared at the inscription. For years, her father had told her that Aaron Vance was a reckless, unstable researcher who had accidentally caused the fire by mishandling volatile chemical agents. But looking at the photograph—at the kind, honest eyes of Dr. Aaron Vance, and comparing them to the cold, calculating glare her father wore in every public appearance—a sickening realization began to take root in her mind.
“Your father killed my father,” Julian’s voice echoed in her memory, clear and piercing.
Suddenly, the lock on her bedroom door clicked.
Elena snapped the photo album shut as the door swung open. Richard Sterling walked in, his suit jacket removed, his tie loosened, looking exhausted yet intensely formidable.
“Elena,” Richard said softly, walking over and placing a hand on the arm of her wheelchair. “I heard you were shaken up by that lunatic at the gala tonight. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
Elena didn't look up at him. She kept her eyes fixed on her lap. “Who was he, Dad?”
Richard’s hand stiffened on the chrome armrest. “He’s nobody, sweetheart. Just a mentally unstable drifter who managed to bypass security with a stolen invitation. The police have him in custody. You’ll never have to see him again.”
“He said his name is Julian Vance,” Elena said quietly, raising her eyes to meet her father’s gaze. “He said Dr. Aaron Vance was his father.”
The temperature in the bedroom seemed to plummet twenty degrees. Richard’s face hardened into a mask of pure, unadulterated ice.
“He lied,” Richard said, his voice dropping into a flat, dangerous register. “Aaron Vance died in that fire twenty years ago, Elena. Anyone claiming otherwise is trying to extort this family. Don’t ever speak his name in this house again.”
Richard turned on his heel and walked toward the door. As he reached the threshold, he paused, looking back over his shoulder.
May you like
“Stay in your room, Elena. Tomorrow morning, we are flying to Zurich for your medical checkup. You won't be returning to New York for a very long time.”
The heavy oak door clicked shut, and the deadbolt slid into place from the outside.
