Part 2: His mistress answered my 31st call from Maui and laughed, completely unaware that his dying mother was listening to every word behind her oxygen mask.

Three thousand miles away, the midday sun blazed across the infinity pool of a five-star resort in Wailea. Julian Sterling reclined on a teak lounger, sipping aged bourbon, his gold watch glinting against his freshly tanned skin. Beside him, Chloe Reynolds was scrolling through her phone, her manicured fingers dancing across the screen as she posted another selfie with the caption: *Chasing tides with my king.*

Julian glanced at his Rolex. His phone had been buzzing intermittently on the glass table, but he had flipped it face down hours ago. After Clara’s thirty-first call, Chloe had taken the liberty of answering it to silence the harassment once and for all.

"Your wife is pathetic," Chloe said with a petulant pout, adjusting the strap of her designer bikini. "She knows you’re with me. She knows you don't love her anymore. Why does she keep clinging like a parasite?"

"It’s not me she’s clinging to, Chloe," Julian said smoothly, taking a slow sip of his drink. "It’s my mother. Eleanor’s health has been failing for months. Clara’s whole identity revolves around playing the martyr nurse. Let her handle the dirty work. When the old woman finally goes, Clara gets a modest severance in the divorce, and the Sterling estate is ours."

"How much longer, Julian? You've been promising me for a year that we’d announce our engagement at the winter gala."

"A few months at most," Julian smirked, leaning over to kiss Chloe's bare shoulder. "The doctors said Eleanor wouldn't survive the winter. Once she’s gone, the primary estate trust vests entirely in my name. Over eighty million dollars, Chloe. Clara won't see a single dime of the real money."

Julian picked up his phone, intending to order another bottle of champagne from room service. But as the screen unlocked, he noticed an anomaly.

His corporate American Express card had sent a fraud alert.

He frowned, tapping into his banking application. The balance on his primary business liquidity account—the one connected to the Sterling Foundation—read: *Unavailable. Contact account administrator.*

"What the hell?" Julian muttered, sitting up straight.

"What is it, baby?" Chloe asked, not looking up from her Instagram comments.

"My corporate card just bounced," Julian said, his brow furrowing. "Arthur Vance’s firm must have flagged the resort expenses again. The old bastard is always auditing the foundation’s promotional budget."

He dialed his personal accountant, Martin Price. The line rang twice before Martin answered, his voice tight and breathless.

"Julian? Where the hell are you?" Martin demanded, bypassing any professional pleasantries.

"I’m in Maui on a private retreat," Julian snapped, irritated by the tone. "Martin, why are my cards being flagged? I told you to approve the wire transfer for the villa deposit."

There was a long, terrifying pause on the other end of the line.

"Julian... didn't Clara reach you?" Martin asked, his voice shaking.

"Clara called thirty times," Julian scoffed. "She’s hysterical as usual. I had Chloe deal with her. What does that have to do with my accounts?"

"Julian, shut up and listen to me," Martin whispered. "Your mother died yesterday afternoon at St. Jude’s Memorial."

Julian froze. The warm Hawaiian breeze suddenly felt like an Arctic blast against his skin. "What?"

"Eleanor is dead, Julian. And she didn't die alone. She died with Clara by her side. But that’s not the worst part."

Julian’s heart hammered against his ribs. "What do you mean, that’s not the worst part? If she’s dead, the probate proceedings begin immediately! I’m the sole surviving heir!"

"You don't understand," Martin said, his voice dropping into panic. "Arthur Vance arrived at the state probate registry at eight o'clock this morning with a court order. Every single account belonging to the Sterling estate, the private trusts, and the foundation has been frozen under a emergency writ of conservatory audit. The locks on the Beacon Hill mansion are being changed right now."