Poor Girl Asks for Food in a Café—Then Sees a Billionaire Holding a Photo of Her Mother...

While Claire slept and recovered, Edward turned his attention to the dark forces that had driven his daughter into extreme poverty.

In his private study, surrounded by dark oak bookshelves, Edward met with his chief security officer, Marcus, and his head legal counsel.

"I want to know how my daughter ended up in a Queens attic without a dollar to her name," Edward ordered, his blue eyes turning to cold steel. "Claire was brilliant. She won the Boston Fellowship. She had job offers from every top architectural firm in the country. How did she end up blacklisted?"

Marcus dropped a thick black folder onto the mahogany desk. "It wasn't an accident, Mr. Blake. It was coordinated."

Edward narrowed his eyes. "By whom?"

"Your nephew, Julian Blake," Marcus revealed smoothly. "Five years ago, when Claire walked away from you after your argument, Julian saw an opportunity. He knew that if Claire reconciled with you, she would inherit the majority shares of Blake International."

Marcus pulled out encrypted email printouts and bank records. "Julian used company resources to quietly contact every major architecture firm in New York and Boston. He spread rumors that Claire was mentally unstable, that she stole proprietary designs, and threatened to pull Blake International's multi-million-dollar investment accounts from any firm that hired her. He systematically destroyed her career before it even started."

Edward sat back in his leather chair, a terrifying, silent rage settling into his bones. Julian—the nephew Edward had raised like a son, the man he had promoted to Vice-President of Blake International—had deliberately starved Edward's daughter and granddaughter to secure his own corporate inheritance.

"Marcus," Edward said, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet register. "Prepare a full audit of Julian’s executive accounts. Look into his personal real estate holdings, his shell companies, and his private offshore funds."