Part 2: He humiliated me in front of everyone by laughing that I was written out of his will, but his smile vanished when he taped together the shredded paper I left on his table.

By six o'clock that evening, the story was leading every major business network across the country.

*BILLIONAIRE TYCOON OUSTED: ETHAN VANCE RECLAIMS MOTHER'S EMPIRE.*

In the penthouse suite of the Grand Regency Hotel, Margaret Vance was furiously packing three Louis Vuitton suitcases. Diamonds, designer gowns, and bearer bonds were scattered across the king-sized bed.

The door unlocked, and Brandon burst in, looking manic. "Mom, what are you doing? Where are you going?"

Margaret didn't stop packing. "I'm leaving, Brandon. And if you have any brains left in your head, you'll pack your bags too."

"Leaving? Dad is meeting with appellate judges right now! He says he can file a federal stay by tomorrow morning!"

Margaret stopped, turning to her son with a look of bitter disgust. "Your father is finished, Brandon. The Securities and Exchange Commission just raided the corporate archives downtown. They're looking into twenty years of diverted funds. When Richard's empire falls, the debt falls on whoever is standing next to him. I am not going to prison for his vanity."

"You can't just abandon him!" Brandon yelled. "He gave you everything!"

"He gave me what he stole from Clara Sterling!" Margaret snapped. She stepped close to Brandon, her eyes cold as ice. "And let me tell you a little truth you've been too stupid to realize, Brandon. Richard didn't cut Ethan out of the will because he hated him. He cut Ethan out because every time he looked at that boy's face, he was reminded that he was nothing more than an imposter."

Before Brandon could answer, Margaret’s private phone vibrated on the marble vanity.

She picked it up, glancing at the caller ID. Her expression shifted from panic to guarded calculation. She answered, putting it to her ear.

"Ethan?" she said, her voice instantly dropping into a honeyed, sympathetic tone.

On the other end of the line, sitting behind the massive desk in Clara’s old office, I listened to the woman who had spent my childhood ensuring I felt like an unwanted stray.

"Margaret," I said flatly.

"Ethan, darling... I'm so glad you called," she purred, motioning for Brandon to shut up. "I know things looked terrible last night. Richard... Richard has been out of his mind for months. The pressure, the ego... I tried to tell him to make things right with you. I begged him not to give that awful speech."

I smiled faintly into the receiver. "Is that why you laughed along with everyone else, Margaret?"

Margaret hesitated, swallowing hard. "I was terrified of him, Ethan. You don't know what he's like behind closed doors. Listen to me... I have documents. Richard kept a secondary ledger in a safe in the cellar of the estate. Off-the-books transactions, shell corporations in the Caymans. I can give them to you. Everything you need to put him away permanently. Just... leave me and Brandon out of the lawsuits. Give us a modest settlement. Two million. That's all we need."

I leaned back in the high leather chair. "You really haven't changed, have you?"

"Ethan, please—"

"I don't need your ledger, Margaret," I said coldly. "The federal marshals seized that safe two hours ago. And as for you and Brandon... you have twenty-four hours to vacate the estate before the locks are changed. Don't take the silver. It belonged to my mother."