Chapter 8 - The Reading of the WillTen minutes later, the cathedral sanctuary was cleared of the general public.
The five hundred guests were escorted out through the side exits by Vale security, instructed to sign strict non-disclosure acknowledgments regarding the security footage. Only a select few remained inside the quiet, cavernous space: myself, my father, Sterling, the federal marshals holding a handcuffed Dominic and Jessica near the back doors, and Victor’s personal estate attorney, Harold Finch.
Finch stood beside Victor’s casket, holding a thick, red-wax-sealed envelope.
"Under normal circumstances," Finch said, his old voice trembling slightly, "a last will and testament is read in an office. But Victor DeLuca gave me strict written instructions that his final wishes were to be announced immediately following his video presentation, in the presence of his son and his true heir."
Dominic lifted his bruised, tear-streaked face from his chest. "True heir? I am his only son! I am his blood!"
Finch ignored him, breaking the wax seal with a small silver knife and unfolding the parchment.
"I, Victor DeLuca, being of sound mind and body," Finch read aloud, "hereby revoke all previous testaments. To my son, Dominic, whose arrogance and greed have proven him unfit to carry my legacy, I leave the sum of one dollar—conditioned upon his complete release of all claims against my estate."
Dominic let out a strangled, pathetic groan.
"To Jessica Mercer," Finch continued, "I leave nothing but the legal liability for her fraudulent transactions."
Finch turned the page, looking directly at me with a soft, respectful nod.
"To my daughter-in-law, Elena Vance-Vale, who served as my true comfort in my final years, who managed my medical care with honor, and whose silence protected this family from public disgrace for five years... I leave one hundred percent of my personal equity in the DeLuca estate, including the family seat, the private art collection, and the voting seat on the board of directors."
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Dominic gasped, trying to lung forward, but the marshals held him pinned against the heavy oak pews. "You can't do this! She’s an outsider! She’s not a DeLuca!"
"She is a Vale," Charles Vale said, stepping beside me and placing a strong arm around my shoulders. "And she now owns everything your father spent sixty years building."
