“There is an additional provision,” he said evenly. “One your father drafted two days before entering his coma. It is titled the Loyalty and Character Clause.”

Curtis scoffed.

“Spare me. Dad’s lectures. Skip it.”

“I cannot,” Sterling replied. “Because your inheritance depends on it.”

He cleared his throat and read aloud:

“I built my fortune on solid foundations. And a structure cannot stand if the foundation is corrupt. I have observed my son Curtis for many years—his vanity, his selfishness, and, most painfully, his lack of compassion toward his dying father. But I have also observed Vanessa.”

My heart jolted. Arthur… had written about me?

Sterling continued:

“Vanessa has been the daughter I never had. She tended to my wounds, tolerated my moods, and preserved my dignity in my final days—while my own son watched the clock, waiting for my death. I know Curtis values money over people. And I fear that once I am gone, he will discard Vanessa to enjoy my fortune without witnesses to his cruelty.”

Curtis’s face drained of color. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Therefore,” Sterling read firmly, “if at the time of my death and the reading of this will, Curtis remains married to Vanessa, living with her, and treating her with the respect she deserves, he shall inherit the seventy-five million dollars. However—”