The Vance Family Mansion looked less like a home and more like a gothic fortress cutting into the dark evening sky.
Heavy iron gates swung open as Alex’s sleek black sedan pulled up the gravel driveway. The massive stone pillars at the entrance cast long, intimidating shadows across the lawn.
Inside, the grand formal dining room had been transformed into a corporate boardroom. Sitting at the head of the long mahogany table was Eleanor Vance, her posture rigid, her sharp eyes scanning the room like an executioner. To her left sat my father, sweating profusely through his suit, and next to him was Austin, wearing a neck brace and a smug, venomous grin. Six members of the Vance Enterprises board of directors flanked the remaining seats.
"Ah, the happy couple," Eleanor sneered as Alex and I
