Chapter 7 - The Inheritance of Malice
Edward’s eyes narrowed as he watched his nephew's calculated reaction. A cold realization began to dawn in the back of his mind.
"How do you know Daniel Vance died, Richard?" Edward asked softly. "I only found out thirty minutes ago."
Richard’s smile faltered slightly. He adjusted the gold cufflink on his left wrist—a cufflink that bore a striking resemblance to the geometric engraving on Edward’s watch.
"It... it was in the police reports a few weeks ago," Richard stammered, recovering his composure instantly. "A vagrant found dead under the bridge. I didn't think it was worth troubling you with."
"You knew," Edward said, rising slowly from his chair, his hands resting flat on the mahogany desk. "You knew Daniel was living in poverty in this city. You knew he had a son."
Richard dropped all pretense of warmth. He took two steps closer to the desk, his eyes hardening into icy slits. "And what if I did? Daniel Vance was a loose end, Uncle. You were too soft to finish what you started fifteen years ago. You left him alive, a ticking time bomb that could have ruined our public offering if he ever found a lawyer brave enough to take his case."
May you like
"What did you do to him, Richard?" Edward growled, his knuckles turning white against the wood.
"I didn't do anything to him," Richard spat sneeringly. "The cold winter did the work for me. I simply made sure that every shelter in the city closed its doors to him when he came looking for warmth. And as for his little brat... he was supposed to be picked up by social services and lost in the state system tonight. You weren't supposed to be at that restaurant, Uncle."
