Chapter 11 - The Inheritance Clause
The notification light on my private terminal blinked a steady, cold amber. It was a restricted alert—the kind that only triggered when a dormant clause in the Veritas master trust was activated.
I set down my fountain pen, leaned back in my ergonomic leather chair, and swiped the screen. The file unfolded with cryptographic precision: Prescott Family Estate, Trust #409-B.
When Weston’s father, Arthur Prescott Sr., had restructured the company on his deathbed eight years ago, he hadn’t left his legacy to his greedy wife Claudia or his arrogant son. He had split the controlling shares into a blind trust—one managed entirely by Veritas Capital under my direct, unchallengeable authority. Weston had never owned the crown; he had merely been a tenant rattling the keys to a house built on my land.
And now, the lease was officially terminated.
A soft chime signaled an incoming encrypted video call from David. I tapped accept, and his professional, unblinking face filled the corner of the display.
"Madam Chairwoman," David reported, his voice crisp. "We have a visitor in the primary lobby. Mr. Arthur Sterling. He requested an immediate audience outside of normal scheduling protocols. He claims it concerns the municipal transport corridor."
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I stared at the screen for a fraction of a second, a slight, knowing smile touching the corners of my lips. Sterling Logistics was feeling the tremors of Prescott Industries’ collapse. Without the artificial inflation of Weston’s fraudulent contracts, Sterling’s stock was taking a beating on the exchange.
"Send him up, David," I commanded smoothly. "Let's see what an old lion does when he realizes he's trapped in a cage of his own making."
