Arthur’s knife scraped against the china—a sharp, violent sound. He finally looked up, his eyes like flint. "Julian was a ghost, Claire. And ghosts don't have a seat at this table."
"I’m not here for the business," Claire said, her voice steady. "I’m here for the truth. I found Mom’s letters, Dad. The ones from 1994. The ones addressed to Julian."
"Julian was a partner," Claire countered. "And according to these, he owned forty percent of Sterling Group before he 'disappeared.'" Incest Story
Arthur Sterling, the patriarch whose name was etched onto half the skyscrapers in the city, sat at the head. To his right was Elias, the eldest son and heir apparent, who wore his father’s expectations like a suffocating wool coat. To his left was Claire, the daughter who had returned home after a five-year silence, carrying a secret that hummed beneath her skin.
The air in the room curdled. Claire looked at her brother, seeing the trap he was inadvertently setting. She hadn't come home for the company. She had come home because their mother’s private journals, found in a dusty attic in Paris, suggested that Arthur wasn’t the self-made titan he claimed to be—and that Elias might not be his biological son. And ghosts don't have a seat at this table
Elias looked between them, the world he had spent thirty years trying to fit into suddenly feeling like a house of cards. He realized then that his father’s coldness wasn't just discipline; it was distance—the distance of a man who looked at his son and saw a rival’s face. "Is it true?" Elias whispered.
Arthur didn't answer. He simply took a sip of wine, the silence stretching until it became a physical weight. In that moment, the Sterling family wasn't a dynasty; they were three strangers tied together by blood, lies, and a shared history that was beginning to burn. The ones from 1994
"The merger is finalized," Arthur said, not looking up from his steak. "Elias, you’ll be lead counsel. It’s time you earned the office."