“Don’t touch that,” Eleanor snapped, reaching forward.

Nathan caught her wrist, holding it firmly but without violence.

“Let her read it,” Nathan said.

I pulled the document from the yellowed envelope.

The parchment was heavy, its edges slightly darkened by age, but the text was perfectly preserved.

It was written in the elegant, precise cursive of Nathan’s grandfather, the founder of the company.

My eyes scanned the lines, searching for the clause that had kept this box locked for decades.

“What does it say, Emily?” Nathan asked, his eyes never leaving his mother.

I found the section marked with the official seal of the state notary.

“It is the original will,” I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Read the distribution of the primary shares,” Nathan said.

My fingers trembled slightly as I traced the faded ink.

“I bequeath fifty-one percent of the voting shares of Vance Enterprises directly to Emily Carter,” I read aloud.

The room fell completely silent.

Even the low hum of the bank’s ventilation system seemed to fade away.

Eleanor’s face drained of color, her lips tightening into a thin, pale line.