Chapter 13 - Patricia asked Jessi to give back the shares she signed over in the hospital
They returned to Chicago in January.
Snow.
Vance Manor looked different.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Arthur gone.
Luca gone.
Staff reduced.
Private trust holding title.
No patriarch’s car in the circular drive.
Patricia stood in the foyer.
Then said:
“I don’t want to live here.”
Jessi turned.
“You own rights in the trust.”
“I know.”
“You could redesign it.”
“I know.”
“Sell it.”
“I know.”
Then Patricia smiled.
“I said I don’t want to live here.”
Right.
Not a question requiring solution.
Two weeks later she rented an apartment downtown.
Arthur had always hated apartments.
Too public.
Too ordinary.
Patricia loved hers.
Twelfth floor.
Balcony.
Doorman.
Neighbors who did not know her family history.
She bought a yellow sofa.
Jessi hated it.
Patricia bought matching chairs.
Freedom.
Then Patricia called.
“We need to discuss the hospital shares.”
Jessi became still.
The thirty-five percent.
Signed hours after Arthur struck her.
Patricia had been medically cleared.
Competent.
Still:
injured.
terrified.
escaping a violent marriage.
Jessi had accepted the transfer because they needed immediate voting power.
Necessary?
Maybe.
Clean?
Not entirely.
Patricia’s own independent attorney joined the meeting.
Not Jessi’s counsel.
Good.
Patricia said:
“I want them back.”
Jessi answered:
“Yes.”
Too fast.
Patricia blinked.
“That easy?”
“Yes.”
“You need them for control.”
“That is exactly why you need your own lawyer.”
Patricia stared.
Then laughed.
The transfer agreement allowed rescission by mutual consent.
They began unwinding it.
But Patricia’s attorney stopped them.
“Before we reverse anything, decide what Mrs. Vance actually wants.”
Patricia frowned.
“My shares.”
“Economic ownership?”
“Yes.”
“Voting control?”
She stopped.
Different.
Did Patricia want to become chairwoman?
No.
Did she want quarterly strategy calls?
Absolutely not.
Did she want Arthur’s old directors calling her?
No.
Did she want income and proper ownership acknowledgment?
Yes.
Did she want independent professionals voting under a mandate she could review?
Maybe.
They built something better.
Patricia’s restored economic interests moved into a personal holding trust under an institutional fiduciary.
She retained defined information rights.
Could replace the fiduciary under specified conditions with independent review.
No Arthur.
No Luca.
No Jessi unilateral control.
Jessi retained only shares independently established as hers through the Sterling restoration and separate lawful acquisitions.
Not Patricia’s fear.
Not hospital urgency.
Clean lines.
Then Jessi said:
“I owe you an apology.”
Patricia looked surprised.
“For what?”
“I used the transfer.”
“You needed it.”
“We needed leverage.”
“You asked.”
“I said yes.”
“I was competent.”
All true.
Jessi continued:
“And I also wanted Arthur destroyed so badly that I did not spend enough time asking whether helping me destroy him would become another thing you were expected to do.”
Patricia’s eyes filled.
Then:
“I wanted him destroyed too.”
They laughed.
Not therapeutic.
Honest.
Then Patricia became serious.
“But thank you for asking now.”
Good.
Then another issue emerged.
Sterling-Vance Foundation.
The name.
Jessi had created it during the restructuring.
A monument to both families?
Maybe.
Also terrible branding.
Half murder.
Half theft.
Employees hated explaining it.
Independent board recommended a new name:
SV Industrial Holdings.
Boring.
Jessi approved.
Patricia celebrated.
No family names.
No dynastic banner.
The company did not need to be a tombstone.
Then Luca wrote Patricia.
Not Jessi.
A handwritten letter.
He had left the Boston teaching job.
Why?
The college had learned the full public record:
The slap.
The attempt to have Jessi and Patricia locked in the basement.
His offshore-transfer involvement.
The institution placed him on leave.
Luca resigned before the disciplinary review concluded.
He wrote:
I told myself Dad made me violent.
That was easier than saying I watched him hurt you for years and learned I could use the same fear.
Patricia stopped reading.
Cried.
Then continued.
I hit Jessi because she disobeyed me.
I ordered the guards because I wanted control restored.
Dad taught me those behaviors.
I chose them.
Patricia held the letter against her chest.
Jessi asked:
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No.”
Then:
“Do you want to read?”
Jessi thought.
“No.”
It was Patricia’s letter.
Good.
Luca wrote that a separate state case regarding the wedding assault and library incident had been resolved.
He accepted responsibility through a negotiated plea.
Probation.
Court-ordered intervention program.
Community service.
No contact with Jessi except through counsel.
He did not ask Patricia to forgive him.
He asked whether she would someday accept a supervised conversation.
Patricia said:
“Not now.”
Jessi nodded.
No:
never.
No:
you should.
Patricia’s choice.
Then she did something Arthur had forbidden for decades.
She enrolled in a pottery class.
Jessi stared.
“Pottery?”
“Yes.”
“You own industrial interests worth—”
Patricia raised one eyebrow.
Jessi stopped.
Three weeks later Patricia produced a vase so ugly Jessi assumed it had been damaged.
Patricia displayed it proudly.
No one corrected her.
At her apartment, the yellow sofa and terrible vase sat beneath a window overlooking the city.
Nothing matched.
Nothing had been selected by Arthur.
May you like
That made it perfect.
👉 Patricia reclaimed the shares she had transferred in fear and chose not to become another family ruler—while Luca’s first real act of accountability was finally admitting that Arthur taught him violence, but never forced his hand to rise.
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