Chapter 3 - The Family Table
Breakfast at the Sterling estate was an exercise in psychological warfare disguised as traditional hospitality.
The dining table was long, carved from dark walnut, and laid out with silver pots of tea, poached eggs, and fresh pastries. Arthur sat at the head of the table in his motorized wheelchair, looking frail, his skin transparent enough to reveal the blue veins beneath. Yet despite his physical weakness, his pale eyes were sharp, tracking every movement in the room.
To his right sat Julian, dressed in a crisp navy suit, casually flipping through a thick stack of legal documents while sipping coffee. To his left sat Martha, playing the protective matriarch, buttering toast for Leo with exaggerated affection.
"Eat up, my little prince," Martha cooed, sliding the plate toward Leo. "You have your father’s appetite, you know. David always loved blackberry jam."
Leo looked at me first, as we had agreed. I gave him a subtle, approving nod, and he took a small bite of the toast.
"Evelyn," Julian said, setting his coffee cup down with a soft clink against the saucer. "I hope you slept well. I know the mountain air can be a bit overwhelming if you're used to the city."
"I slept fine, Julian," I said, taking a seat directly across from him. "Though I noticed the Wi-Fi seems to be out. I needed to check my work email this morning."
Julian smiled—a tight, practiced movement of his lips that didn't reach his eyes. "Ah, yes. A storm hit the valley ridge last night. Knocked out the landlines and the cell tower transmitter up on High Point. Happens all the time out here. We’re quite isolated until the road crew fixes it."
Liar. There had been no storm last night. The sky had been clear and filled with stars.
"That's unfortunate," I said calmly. "Because I can't stay long today. I have to get Leo back to school by tomorrow morning, and my office expects me back in the studio."
"Nonsense," Martha chimed in quickly, her hands fluttering near her chest. "You can't possibly rush back! Arthur wants to spend quality time with his grandson. Don't you, Arthur?"
Arthur didn't answer immediately. He stared at his teacup, his breath rasping through his nose. When he finally looked up at me, there was something desperate in his gaze—a warning he couldn't speak aloud. "Evelyn... the mountain roads are dangerous this time of year. Accidents happen quickly when people rush."
The word accidents hung in the air like a cloud of poison.
"Speaking of safety and the future," Julian smoothly interjected, leaning across the table and sliding a thin silver pen toward me alongside a single summary sheet. "We should clear up the administrative details before Mr. Vance gets here with the formal trust deeds."
I didn't touch the pen. "What administrative details, Julian?"
"When David passed away two years ago," Julian explained, his tone infuriatingly condescending, "he held a 35% stakeholder share in Sterling Logistics. Because he died without a clear corporate succession clause, those shares automatically defaulted into a holding account set aside for his legal heir—Leo."
"I know that," I said. "David told me those shares were held in a passive trust until Leo turns twenty-one."
"That was the original plan," Julian said, resting his elbows on the table. "However, due to recent restructuring in the shipping sector, the board needs to consolidate those shares into the primary corporate entity. Otherwise, the firm faces severe tax penalties that could bankrupt the estate. All we need today is your temporary authorization as Leo's natural guardian to convert those shares into non-voting treasury stock."
"Non-voting?" I repeated slowly. "If they become non-voting, Leo loses all administrative oversight of his father’s legacy."
"It protects him from liability!" Martha insisted, her voice rising slightly. "He's a child, Evelyn! What does a nine-year-old boy need with corporate voting rights? Julian will manage everything for him!"
"And what does Leo get in return?" I asked, looking directly into Julian’s cold eyes.
"A guaranteed lump-sum payout of two hundred thousand dollars when he turns eighteen," Julian said smoothly.
Two hundred thousand dollars. The 35% stake in Sterling Logistics was worth at least fifteen million dollars on the private regional exchange. They weren't trying to protect Leo—they were trying to rob him blind and cover a massive deficit on their books before the board found out.
"It sounds like a complex decision," I said, leaning back and resting my hand over my stomach. I let out a soft, audible gasp and closed my eyes, letting my head drop slightly to the side.
"Evelyn?" Martha asked, her voice instantly laced with suspicion. "What's wrong?"
"Mommy?" Leo chimed in right on cue, stepping out of his chair. "Are you dizzy again? You said your head was hurting earlier!"
"I... I do feel very lightheaded," I murmured, rubbing my temples with trembling fingers. "My vision is blurring. Julian... is there a glass of water? I think my blood pressure is dropping."
Julian’s eyes narrowed into slits. He stared at me, evaluating whether I was genuinely sick or performing. "You look fine, Evelyn."
"She’s pale as a sheet!" Arthur suddenly barked from his wheelchair, his voice surprisingly forceful despite his weakness. "Martha, take her out to the garden porch! Get her some fresh air immediately! We are not signing legal documents with a woman who can barely stand!"
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Julian glared at his father, a muscle twitching wildly in his jaw. But with Arthur speaking up in front of the servants who were clearing the table, Julian couldn't push harder without revealing his hand.
"Fine," Julian said bitterly, snatching the pen back off the table. "Ten minutes on the porch. But Mr. Vance will be here at ten sharp, Evelyn. And sick or not, we will settle this today."
