Chapter 7 - The Inheritance of FireThe grand staircase of the Kane estate trembled beneath Everett’s heavy, purposeful boots as he descended into the foyer, Willa right behind him like a shadow of vengeance.
Downstairs, the heavy oak doors of the private library stood wide open.
Sterling Kane sat behind Everett’s massive mahogany desk, sipping a cup of morning espresso, reading through a stack of asset transfer contracts. He looked up lazily as footsteps echoed across the marble floor, expecting Crowley or Whitfield with the signed papers.
Instead, he looked up into the cold, dead-eyed stare of Everett Kane.
Sterling’s espresso cup slipped from his fingers, shattering against the Persian rug, dark coffee staining the fabric like fresh blood.
"E-Everett?" Sterling whispered, rising so fast his chair tipped backward and crashed onto the floor. His face turned completely white. "No... that's impossible. Whitfield said—"
"Whitfield is currently picking glass out of his shoes upstairs," Everett said, his voice cutting through the silent room like a razor blade. He walked straight toward the desk, each step heavy and deliberate.
Sterling backed away until his spine hit the mahogany bookshelves, his eyes darting frantically toward the door. "C-cousin... let's talk about this. It was a business arrangement. A transition! The board agreed that—"
"The board answers to me," Everett growled, towering over Sterling. He slammed both hands down on the desk, leaning in close. "You drugged me. You imprisoned me in my own home. You brought a helpless woman here to humiliate her and use her as a scapegoat."
Sterling’s composure cracked entirely. A panicked, frantic sweat broke out across his forehead. "She's a nobody! A homeless street rat! You can't kill me over a—"
Before Sterling could finish, Willa stepped into the light of the library.
She walked up to the desk, picked up the asset transfer contract Sterling had tried to force her to sign, and slowly, deliberately, tore it in half. Then into quarters. Then into tiny confetti pieces that she let flutter onto Sterling’s polished shoes.
"I may be a nobody, Sterling," Willa said, her voice steady and clear as glass. "But my husband and I make a very good team."
Everett looked down at Willa, a slow, approving smile touching his lips. Then, he turned his cold gaze back to his cousin.
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"Get out of my house, Sterling," Everett whispered, his voice dangerously quiet. "And if you ever breathe the name Kane in Chicago again, I won't just take your money. I'll take everything."
Sterling didn't wait to be told twice. He scrambled past them like a coward, fleeing out the front doors into the morning mist, never to be seen in the estate again.
