Part 9: The Trail to Zurich
The peace I had promised my son turned out to be an illusion lasting only a few hours.
Three days after the nightmare at The Golden Lion, I sat in a sparely furnished office at the police headquarters in Amsterdam. Luuk was sleeping on a couch in the adjoining room, soaked in exhaustion. My mother sat beside him, her hand tightly clasped in his. In three days, she had aged ten years; the lies she had been forced to keep for thirteen years by order of my sister and Mark had taken their toll.
Across the wooden table sat Detective De Jong, a man with deep dark circles under his eyes and a cold cup of coffee in front of him.
"Mrs. Van Dijk," said De Jong, closing a thick file. "Forensic experts have recovered the bodies of Mark and Victor Vance from the ruin. Helena Vance has not yet been officially identified, but given the devastation of the basement, we assume no one survived that explosion."
I nodded slowly. "And the investigation into my sister?"
De Jong sighed. "Your sister, Sophie, made a full statement to a notary just before her death. That statement supports your story. Mark did indeed blackmail her with evidence of a financial crime your father allegedly committed years ago. Sophie acted out of panic to protect the family, even though it destroyed your life."
I closed my eyes. The anger I had harbored toward my sister for thirteen years slowly melted into a bitter sort of grief. Sophie hadn't been a monster; she was a victim of Mark's ruthless manipulation.
"You are free to go, Emma," said De Jong. "But there's one thing..."
He slid a printout of the text message across the table. The message that had arrived on Victor's phone.
Did you really think Helena was the only head of the family? See you soon in Zurich.
"We traced the number," the detective said in a low voice. "It comes from an encrypted server registered to a Swiss private bank. Vance & Cie Private Bankers. The bank's management isn't run by Helena, but by a man named Gabriel Vance."
"Gabriel?" I repeated. "Julian and Victor didn't have another brother. It says so in the documents."
"Not a brother," said De Jong. "An uncle. Julian's father's younger brother. The man who has been the financial shadow of the family for forty years. He manages all foreign trusts. And until Luuk physically signs his legal claim to the fortune at the headquarters in Zurich, the money remains under Gabriel's control."
At that moment, the office door opened. Frank stepped inside, sharp in his suit as if he hadn't crawled out from under burning brewery beams three days ago.
"Detective," Frank nodded politely. Then he looked at me. "Mrs. Van Dijk, our car is ready. We must be in Zurich within twelve hours."
"I'm going nowhere," I said fiercely, standing up. "I want to take my son home! We don't want this money! Let Gabriel Vance keep those billions, I don't care!"
Frank stepped close to me and leaned over so De Jong couldn't hear him.
"You don't understand, Emma," Frank said in an ice-cold, soft tone. "It's not about the money for Gabriel. He already has enough money. It's about control of the Vance Group companies. If Luuk doesn't sign the papers in Zurich before his birthday deadline permanently closes, Gabriel has the right to void the trust. And do you know what a man like Gabriel does with an illegitimate heir who poses a constant threat to his power?"
I stared at him, the cold creeping back into my bones.
"He will hunt Luuk down for the rest of his life," said Frank. "You can't hide in a Dutch provincial town with a child who lays claim to two billion euros. The only way to truly keep Luuk safe is to go to Zurich, put the fortune in his name, and transfer management to an independent foundation. Only then is he worthless to his enemies."
I looked through the office door window into the next room. Luuk was sleeping, his face relaxed and young. He deserved a life without fear, without shadows lurking behind doors.
"When do we leave?" I asked.
"Now," said Frank. "We're flying on a private jet from Schiphol. But there is one condition: your mother stays here under police protection. Only you and Luuk are coming."
Two hours later, Luuk and I sat in the back of a luxury private jet flying through the night sky toward the Swiss Alps. Luuk looked out the window at the lights of the cities far below us.
"Mom?" he asked softly.
"Yes, honey?"
"Is my dad... was he a bad man?"
My heart shrank. I sat down next to him and took his hand. "No, Luuk. Your dad, Julian, was a man who made mistakes, but he loved you before you were even born. He left everything he had to ensure you would have a future."
Luuk nodded slowly. He laid his head against my shoulder. "I don't want to be a billionaire, Mom. I just want us to have a normal house."
"We will," I promised him, though the words felt like counterfeit currency on my tongue. "As soon as we've been to Zurich, it will be over."
As the jet began its descent toward Zurich airport, Frank walked into the cabin. He had an envelope in his hand.
"We're landing in ten minutes," said Frank. "A Swiss police escort is waiting. We're driving straight to the bank on Paradeplatz."
He handed me a small piece of paper. "This is Gabriel Vance's description. Make sure you recognize him if you see him."
I took the printout and looked at the photo of the man who ruled in the shadow of the Vance family.
An old man with white hair, a narrow face, and piercing blue eyes.
but as my eyes drifted to the bottom of the photo, to the man's hands resting on the arm of a chair, I felt the blood drain from my face.
On Gabriel Vance's left hand was a striking, star-shaped scar.
The exact scar I had seen thirteen years ago on the hand of the man in the hotel in Paris.
The man I had mistaken for Julian all those years.
My breath caught.
Julian Vance had never been my son's father.
It was Gabriel.
