Chapter 4 - The Corpse That Spoke
Armed with Elena’s dossier, Julian walked back into the Sterling Manor penthouse like a phantom of vengeance.
It was noon. The grand foyer still showed faint traces of the bloodstains from the gala night—scrubbed clean by the domestic staff, but invisible ghosts lingered in every corner.
Arthur Sterling sat behind his massive mahogany desk in the private study, swirling a glass of single-malt scotch. Richard Vance stood beside him, tablet in hand, reviewing corporate restructuring documents.
The heavy oak doors swung open. Julian didn't knock.
"Julian," Arthur sighed, not even bothering to look up from his papers. "If you’re here to throw another childish tantrum about Victoria, save your breath. The board met this morning. We’ve managed to spin the narrative. The press thinks Claire tripped due to prenatal fatigue, and—"
"Save it, Dad," Julian interrupted. His voice was terrifyingly devoid of emotion.
He walked right up to the desk and slammed the thick manila folder down on top of Arthur’s confidential reports. The papers slid across the polished wood, scattering financial logs, offshore bank routing numbers, and signed confessions from former Sterling employees.
Arthur frowned, slowly lowering his scotch glass. "What is this nonsense?"
"That is the blueprint of your daughter's financial crimes," Julian said, leaning his palms flat on the desk, towering over his father. "And more importantly, it's the motive for attempted murder."
Richard Vance quickly stepped forward, swiping at the tablet. "Mr. Sterling, whatever emotional distress you're under—"
"Shut your mouth, Richard," Julian snarled, turning his glare onto the lawyer. "Unless you want me to hand your personal offshore tax evasion files—the ones Elena left me before she went into hiding—directly to the Federal Bureau of Investigation."
Richard’s face drained of color. He stepped back, instantly silent.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. He looked up at his son, the mask of the loving patriarch finally shattering completely, revealing the ruthless corporate titan beneath. "You think a few stolen financial files give you leverage over this family? Victoria is your sister. She made a mistake in the heat of a hysterical moment. We handle our own internally. We always have."
"Internally?" Julian let out a dark, chilling laugh. "Dad, you still don't get it. You think this is just about family drama."
Julian pulled out his phone, unlocked the screen, and placed it face-up on the desk.
On the screen was a live, high-definition video feed from the ICU. Claire was still unconscious, hooked up to monitors. But beside her bed stood a private nurse—one Julian had personally hired and paid a million dollars to guard the door with armed private security.
And more importantly, glowing on the hospital monitor beside Claire’s bed was a digital brain activity graph showing a sudden, violent spike.
"She woke up an hour ago," Julian whispered, leaning in close so only his father could hear every syllable. "She didn't lose her memory, Dad. She remembered every single word Victoria screamed at her before she shoved her down those stairs. And right before they put her back under for minor surgery, she dictated her full statement to my lawyer and a notary public."
Arthur stared at the phone screen, his hands beginning to tremble slightly against the edge of the desk. For the first time in thirty years, the invincible patriarch looked old.
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"You wouldn't," Arthur rasped. "You'll destroy the Sterling name. You’ll destroy yourself."
"The Sterling name died the night Victoria pushed my wife," Julian said straighten up, his eyes locked on his father’s soul. "Now, here is how this is going to play out: Victoria is going to pack her bags, turn herself into the police by sunset, and plead guilty to attempted murder. If she doesn't... I drop the entire file to the DOJ, and I watch you, Victoria, and Richard walk out of this house in handcuffs."
