Chapter 4 - The Paper Trail of Greed
By 2:00 AM, the mansion was crawling with forensic technicians and detectives. Clara had made hot tea for Olivia in the kitchen, sitting with an arm wrapped around the brave girl who had saved our family.
I sat in my study with Detective Morales and my personal attorney, Nathan Cross.
"A crime like this is rarely spontaneous, Mr. Sterling," Detective Morales said, tapping a pen against her notebook. "Pushing an infant down a staircase in broad daylight requires either a total psychiatric break or a calculated financial motive."
Nathan opened his briefcase and pulled out a legal folder. "Adrian, last month Vanessa brought in a supplementary estate rider. She asked to be named primary trustee of the children's trust fund in the event of your incapacitation, claiming it would ensure continuity if anything happened to you on your international business trips."
"Did you sign it?" Morales asked sharply.
"No," I replied, a cold sweat breaking across my neck. "I told her we would discuss estate planning after the wedding. That trust fund holds thirty-five million dollars left by my late wife, Claire, specifically dedicated to Olivia and Emma."
"Search her room," Morales instructed her team.
Ten minutes later, Detective Davies returned carrying a locked designer vanity case retrieved from Vanessa's walk-in closet. Forensics popped the lock.
Inside were four sealed documents:
A forged power of attorney in Vanessa’s name with my signature traced from old corporate memos.
A life insurance policy on Emma and Olivia totaling five million dollars each, taken out through an offshore underwriter in the Cayman Islands.
A burner smartphone containing hundreds of encrypted messages.
Morales swiped open the unlocked burner phone. The contact list had only one name: G.M.
The last message, sent forty-five minutes before I arrived home, read:
G.M.: "Is the infant taken care of? Once the baby is gone, the older one will be easy to institutionalize under grief trauma. The trust will be ours by Friday."
May you like
Vanessa: "It's done. Blaming the maid now."
Morales looked up, her eyes blazing with disgust. "This wasn't an isolated domestic dispute, Mr. Sterling. This was a syndicate hit on your children."
