The signature line for my father was completely blank.

Instead, there was a separate letter on early Hayes Enterprises stationery.

The letter was dated three months before my father died in the hospital.

It was signed by Preston.

“He stole it,” I whispered.

“He didn’t buy it. He didn’t inherit it.”

“He just took it when my father was too sick to fight.”

Mia nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

“There’s more,” she said.

She reached into the folder and pulled out a small, black notebook.

“This was Grandpa’s journal from that year.”

My hand shook as I took the notebook from her.

The leather was cracked and worn.

I opened the first page.

The handwriting was weak, written during the final stages of his illness.

*Preston has threatened to withhold the medical trust funds if I do not sign over the encryption keys,* the entry read.

My breath caught in my throat.

“He blackmailed him,” I said.

“He let him die thinking he had lost his life’s work.”

“He built his entire empire on a lie.”

The weight of the revelation settled over me like a physical blow.