Chapter 9
The lawsuit against Voss Enterprises made headlines around the world.
BILLION-DOLLAR HEIR: NINE-YEAR-OLD ORPHAN CLAIMS HALF OF VOSS EMPIRE.
The papers loved it.
The TV stations couldn’t get enough.
Everyone wanted a piece of the story.
Everyone wanted a piece of me.
But Evelyn kept me inside.
Locked down tight.
Security was everywhere.
No one in.
No one out.
Except Julian.
He moved into the house.
Said he wanted to “help.”
His parents were furious.
But he didn’t care.
“I’m on your team now,” he told me. “Besides, someone has to teach you how to spend all that money when you get it.”
He tried to make me laugh.
He almost succeeded sometimes.
But mostly, I just felt empty.
Mom was gone.
Nothing mattered anymore.
Except one thing.
Justice.
The trial was set for six months away.
The lawyers worked day and night.
Gathering evidence.
Finding witnesses.
Building the case.
Marcus Voss was dead.
Died in a car crash five years ago.
But we had his old journals.
Love letters to Mom.
DNA evidence from old hairbrushes.
And the necklace.
Always the necklace.
Engraved on the back, in tiny letters no one had ever noticed:
To my Sarah. Forever. M.V.
It was the smoking gun.
Christian Voss fought dirty.
Just like we knew he would.
He ran TV ads.
He gave interviews.
He called Mom a gold digger.
He called me a fraud.
He said the necklace was stolen.
He said the DNA was fake.
He said Evelyn Whitmore was a bitter old woman who would do anything to destroy his family.
And the worst part?
Some people believed him.
Then, two weeks before the trial, everything changed.
We got a package.
No return address.
Just a DVD.
Robert played it in the library.
It was security footage.
From the night Mom died.
Clear as day.
Two men breaking into her room.
And standing in the hallway.
Watching.
Waiting.
Christian Voss.
There was no sound.
But you could see his face.
Smiling.
As the men went inside.
Evelyn screamed.
Julian threw up.
I just watched.
Over and over.
His smile.
That was the face of the man who had killed my mother.
The police arrested him that night.
At his penthouse.
Live on TV.
They charged him with murder.
Conspiracy.
Racketeering.
Everything.
His lawyers tried to say the video was fake.
But the forensics didn’t lie.
It was real.
And then, the other shoe dropped.
Christian started talking.
To save himself.
He told the police everything.
About the payments.
About the hitmen.
About framing William.
About chasing Mom and me across the country for two years.
About the night at the Waldorf.
Everything.
He even told them where to find the hitmen.
They were arrested in Mexico three days later.
William was cleared.
All charges dropped.
He came to the house the day after.
He stood in the doorway of the library.
Awkward.
Ashamed.
“Evelyn,” he said. “I… I don’t know what to say. I was wrong. About Sarah. About Luna. About everything.”
Evelyn looked at him.
No anger.
No hate.
Just sadness.
“Your sister is dead, William,” she said. “Nothing you say will bring her back. But you can honor her. You can help us make sure Voss never hurts anyone again. And you can be the uncle Luna deserves. If you can do that… you’re still family.”
He nodded.
Tears were running down his face.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “Whatever you need.”
He looked at me.
“I’m sorry, Luna,” he said. “For everything. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”
I didn’t say anything.
I just nodded.
It was going to take time.
But maybe… maybe one day.
The Voss trial was a formality after that.
Christian pled guilty to everything.
Life in prison without parole.
Voss Enterprises was broken up.
Half of it came to me.
The other half was sold to pay damages to his victims.
I was now the richest nine-year-old in the world.
But I would have given it all back.
Every penny.
Every dollar.
May you like
Every billion.
Just to have Mom back for one more day.
