Chapter 11: Anastasia / Clara

"Failing heart valve..." my father, Arthur Vancouve, reads aloud from a live-scrolling financial ticker. His voice is in a low growl that vibrates through the room. He slams a heavy crystal glass onto his oak desk. "The audacity of this nobody. Anastasia, he is using a child's terminal illness to orchestrate a public lynching. Look at the markets."

I follow his gaze to the corner monitor. The Vancouve Conglomerate's domestic trading index flashes with red. A minute-by-minute trading chart shows our stock line taking a jagged dive.

"We are down one point two percent since he fell to his knees," my father growls, picking up...