Julian stumbled backward.
“What?”
Victoria shouted, “That money belonged to the family!”
“Arthur’s accounts,” Martin corrected.
“It was our marriage!”
“Some were marital. Some were separate. Some belonged to corporate entities.”
Richard spoke quickly.
“Business expenses.”
Martin pulled out another page.
“Then perhaps you can explain why six hundred thousand dollars moved from Sterling Regional Construction into a consulting company formed under your name.”
Richard froze.
There it was.
The first real crack.
Julian looked between them.
“Richard?”
“Stay out of this.”
“No. You told me Dad approved money for my restaurant expansion.”
Nobody spoke.
Julian’s face changed.
He turned to our mother.
“You said Dad invested.”
Victoria looked furious.
“He intended to.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“You needed the money.”
My half-brother went pale.
“How much?”
“Julian—”
“How much of the money in my company came from Dad without his permission?”
My mother’s silence answered him.
He sank into a chair.
For the first time in years, I didn’t see the arrogant younger brother who mocked my government salary.
I saw someone realizing his success might have been built on money he had no right to receive.
“I didn’t know,” he said.
I believed him.
Not because I trusted Julian.
Because shock is difficult to fake when it destroys your ego in real time.
Victoria stepped toward him.
“Everything I did was for you.”
He looked up.
“That doesn’t make it legal.”
Her face hardened.
“You ungrateful child.”
And there she was.
The real Victoria Sterling.
Love as leverage.
Money as control.
Sacrifice as a weapon.
