Chapter 3 - The Vulture Descends
It didn't take seven days for Julian Morgan to smell blood in the water. It took barely six hours.
At 9:00 PM, Edward was sitting in his leather wingback chair in the massive mahogany-lined library. A small reading lamp cast a warm, golden pool of light over his lap. Upstairs, Lillian was finally asleep, bathed, fed, and tucked between crisp Egyptian cotton sheets in a bed big enough for four people.
The heavy mahogany doors of the library burst open without a knock.
Julian Morgan strode into the room like he already owned the title deed. At forty-eight, Julian wore a tailored charcoal suit that cost more than a working family’s monthly rent. His hair was slicked back, his smile was sharp and predatory, and his eyes darted around the room as if calculating the resale value of every painting on the wall.
“Edward!” Julian barked, closing the door behind him with a sharp click. “What in God’s name is going on? My sources at St. Jude’s say you were spotted dragging some homeless street brat out of a gutter and bringing her back to the estate in your personal car. Are you completely out of your mind?”
Edward didn't look up from his book. He slowly turned a page, the rustle of paper sounding absurdly loud in the quiet library.
“You have poor sources, Julian,” Edward said calmly. “She wasn't in a gutter. She was under a lamppost.”
Julian marched right up to Edward’s chair, slamming both hands onto the armrests. “Don't play word games with me, Edward! The estate manager called me an hour ago, sweating bullets, saying you’ve claimed some street urchin as your legal heir! Have you forgotten you have a family? Have you forgotten who is supposed to inherit the Morgan Holdings empire?”
Edward slowly raised his head. His gray eyes were cold, flat, and hard as granite.
“I haven't forgotten anything, Julian,” Edward said quietly. “Especially not the fact that every time you look at me, you aren't seeing a brother. You’re seeing an expiration date.”
Julian’s face flushed red. He stood up straight, adjusting his cuffs. “That is absurd. I am your flesh and blood! We built this family’s reputation together! You cannot just hand four hundred million dollars, three real estate trusts, and the family name to a nameless nobody you found in the rain! The board of directors will never allow it. The courts will throw it out before you’re even cold in the ground!”
“Let them try,” Edward said, his voice dropping an octave into a terrifying, steady register. “I spent my entire life building this empire, Julian. I decide who inherits it. And as of today, my legal team has filed the adoption papers and updated my will. Everything I own belongs to Lillian Morgan.”
Julian stared at his brother, his breath hitching in his throat. For a split second, sheer panic flickered in Julian’s eyes, replaced immediately by venomous fury.
“You’re dying, Edward,” Julian hissed, leaning in close, his voice venomous. “Your lungs are failing. You have days left. You think a piece of paper is going to protect some random beggar girl from me? Once you’re gone, I will tear that adoption apart piece by piece. I’ll hire the most expensive forensic accountants and lawyers in the country. I’ll prove you were of unsound mind—medicated, delusional, dying of oxygen deprivation—when you signed those papers!”
Edward slowly closed his book. He set it down on the side table beside his oxygen tank, the hiss of the machine filling the silence between them.
He stood up.
He was weaker than he used to be, but standing at six-foot-one, he still towered over Julian. He looked down at his brother with a gaze so chilling that Julian actually took half a step backward.
“Try it, Julian,” Edward whispered. “And you’ll find out just how thoroughly I can dismantle your life before my heart stops beating. Now get out of my house.”
Julian’s jaw worked silently. He pointed a shaking, manicured finger at Edward. “You’ll regret this, Edward. You’re inviting a snake into your house, and you won’t even live long enough to watch it bite you.”
With that, Julian turned and stormed out of the library, slamming the heavy mahogany doors so hard the picture frames on the wall rattled.
Edward exhaled slowly, pressing a hand against his ribs as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He sat back down in his chair, staring into the dark fireplace.
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He knew Julian wasn't bluffing. Julian would stop at nothing. But as Edward listened to the faint, distant sound of a floorboard creaking upstairs—knowing Lillian was safe, warm, and sleeping in her own bed for the first time in days—he knew one thing for certain.
He would spend every last breath he had left to make sure Julian never touched a single dime.
