“None of them were hers to make,” Julian said.

He walked into the light, his face pale and tired.

“I know that now,” Julian added.

Miranda Sterling moved in the shadows of the library.

She came toward the door, her silk dress rustling against the doorframe.

Her hair was slightly damp from her walk through the gardens earlier, and her eyes were wide.

“This is my house,” Miranda said, her voice shaking but still sharp.

“These are my offices.”

“You have no authority to bring these people here.”

Marcus did not look angry; he looked bored.

“The house belongs to the Sterling Trust, Mrs. Sterling,” Marcus said.

“The trust belongs to the bloodline of Arthur Sterling.”

“Valerie is the daughter of Charles Sterling.”

“Her grandfather is Elias Cross.”

“The documents you signed twenty years ago specifically stated that if Charles’s heirs survived, your tenure was temporary.”

Miranda gripped the edge of a mahogany table.

Her knuckles were white.

“Arthur left this company to me to run,” she whispered.

“He left it to you to manage until his family could reclaim it,” Elias said, his voice firm.