A little girl stopped me inside my own mansion and asked, "You promised my mom she'd be paid today... so why did you lie to her?"

The room grew instantly colder. "What did you say?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

Harrison let out a dry, mocking chuckle. "You spend all your time flying to New York, Tokyo, and Paris, managing billions, completely blind to what happens under your own roof. I didn't authorize the diversion of household funds, Mr. Vance. Your brother, Julian, did."

Julian.

My younger brother. A man who had spent his entire life living in my shadow, receiving a massive monthly allowance from our family trust, a man whose gambling debts I had quietly cleared three times over the last decade to preserve our family name.

"You're lying," I said, though deep down, a sickening feeling told me he wasn't.

"Check the Delaware corporate registry," Harrison said, tapping my laptop screen. "Julian Vance is listed as the majority shareholder of Apex Property Management. He needed quick cash to cover a bad debt with some very unpleasant people in Las Vegas. He told me that if I helped him skim from the domestic estate budget, he’d ensure I got a twenty percent cut and a promotion to managing your entire global real estate portfolio next year. He assured me the staff wouldn't complain because they were 'lucky to work here' anyway."

I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. The betrayal didn't just hurt; it disgusted me. My own brother was using my estate, my loyal staff, as a personal piggy bank while a little girl cried in my hallway because her mother couldn't afford rent.

"Get out of my sight," I told Harrison, my voice shaking with a terrifying restraint. "Security will escort you off the premises. If you attempt to delete a single file or touch a single asset, my legal team will ensure you spend the next twenty years in a federal penitentiary."

"Julian won't let you ruin him, Vance," Harrison warned as he stepped toward the door. "He has more leverage than you think."

Once Harrison was gone, I took a deep breath, grabbed the wire transfer confirmation receipt from the printer, and walked back down the grand staircase.

Rosa and Camila were still standing by the service entrance, looking terrified. The rest of the household staff stood in the shadows, waiting for the fallout.

I walked straight up to Rosa and handed her the paper. "Rosa, I have just executed an emergency wire transfer of twenty-five thousand dollars directly to your bank account. It is already cleared. Call your landlord right now, on speakerphone."

Rosa’s eyes widened as she looked at the number on the paper. "Sir... this is too much. My back pay is only—"

"It is not enough for what you went through," I interrupted gently. "Please, call him."

With trembling fingers, Rosa dialed her landlord. When the man answered with his usual abrasive tone, Rosa spoke with a newfound dignity. "Mr. Collins, the full three months of rent, plus an additional three months in advance, has just been wired to your account. Check your balances."

A long silence followed over the speakerphone as the landlord presumably checked his computer. When he spoke again, his tone had completely changed. "Oh... uh, yes. I see it, Rosa. Look, I’m sorry about the pressure, I just—"