Chapter 5 - The Iron Uncle
Marcus Vance did not look like my mother. While Gertrude was all soft silk, expensive perfume, and practiced smiles, her younger brother looked like he had been cut out of an old piece of oak. He sat behind a steel desk in a downtown office that smelled of old paper and black coffee, his sleeves rolled up to reveal thick, hairy forearms.
“I told you five years ago not to leave that woman in charge of your money, David,” Marcus said, his voice a low rumble as he turned the pages of the bank statements I had brought him.
“She’s my mother, Marcus,” I said, sitting stiffly in the leather chair, Sarah sitting right beside me, holding a cup of tea with both hands.
“She’s a Vance,” Marcus corrected, his sharp grey eyes looking over the rims of his glasses. “And the Vances have a bad habit of thinking that other people’s labor is their birthright. Look at this. July 2024. You wire $1,800. Within four hours, $1,500 is transferred to a retail account listed under 'Chanel Boutique Manhattan.' There is no record of any withdrawal for groceries, medical insurance, or child maintenance.”
He slammed the folder shut with a sound like a small clap of thunder.
“It’s a textbook case of grand larceny, conversion of funds, and given what happened to Sarah and the boy, we could probably convince the district attorney to look at reckless endangerment and unlawful confinement.”
“I don't just want them in jail, Marcus,” I said, my knuckles turning white against the armrest. “I want the house cleared. I want the deed verified. I want the corporate proxy Gertrude signed last winter revoked.”
Marcus leaned back, a small, grim smile appearing on his rugged face. “Ah, the proxy. Gertrude thought she was being clever. When the Bayside Heights property was purchased, she had the title registered under 'Vance Family Holdings LLC.' She’s the managing member, but you are the sole capital contributor. Do you know what that means in this state?”
“Tell me.”
“It means she has the right to manage the asset, but she cannot dilute your equity without written consent. And she certainly cannot use the LLC’s funds for non-business expenses—like hosting the local garden club or buying sports cars for your sister.”
He reached across the desk, tapping a thick blue document. “I’ve already filed an emergency injunction with the county court. By noon today, all bank accounts associated with Gertrude Vance, Prudence Vance, and Vance Family Holdings are frozen pending a full forensic audit. They won't even be able to buy a cup of coffee without the court’s permission.”
The door to the office opened, and his secretary stepped in, looking slightly worried. “Mr. Vance, Gertrude Vance is on the phone. She’s shouting quite loudly. She says her card was rejected at the grocery store.”
Marcus picked up the receiver, his face expressionless. “Gertrude,” he said into the mouthpiece. “Yes, it’s Marcus. No, the system isn't broken. I broke it. Your son is sitting in my office right now. We’ve reviewed the books from 2022 to the present.”
He listened for three seconds before cutting her off with a voice that was pure iron.
“Save the tears for the judge, sister. You have exactly twenty-four hours to produce five years of receipts showing where David’s money went. If you can't, I suggest you look for a lawyer who accepts payment in silk scarves, because you don't have a single dollar left in the bank.”
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He hung up the phone and looked at me. “They’re going to fight, David. When people like Gertrude get cornered, they don't apologize. They turn into wolves.”
“Let them,” I said, reaching over to take Sarah’s hand. “I’ve been fighting iron and stone for five years. A couple of wolves won't stand a chance.”
