The hallway of the Sterling estate was lined with white marble that felt more like a tomb than a foyer. For Eleanor Sterling, the matriarch of the most powerful financial dynasty in the country, the floor had become the last thing she would ever know.

The VIP wing of St. Jude’s Hospital was swarming with federal agents, but Julian’s clearance had miraculously been reinstated.

He and Arthur walked into Room 412.

Victoria Vanguard was sitting up in the hospital bed. She looked frail, pale, and bruised, but her eyes—sharp, calculating, and ruthless—were completely intact.

She looked at Julian, giving a slow, respectful nod. Then, her gaze shifted to Arthur. The son she had hidden away. The son wearing a cheap leather jacket, holding the keys to her empire.

"You have my eyes," Victoria rasped, her voice weak but carrying the weight of a titan.

"And I have your ledger," Arthur said coldly, tossing the thick black binder onto her hospital bed. "I saved your legacy. Not for you. For me. The mechanics shop is closed, Mother. I'm taking the seat."

For a tense, suffocating moment, Victoria stared at him. She had spent her whole life controlling people, dominating rooms, and crushing weakness.