The Maid Who Reclaimed Her Family Legacy and Silenced Chicago
“Julian has managed the shipping division well,” Nathaniel said.
“But that is your decision, Valerie.”
“The company is yours.”
I looked down at the first page of the document.
The text was dense, filled with legal terms and references to trusts established in 1954.
“Julian stays,” I said.
Miranda gasped, taking a step forward.
“You would let him work for you?” she asked.
“He is a Sterling.”
“He is the only one who actually knows how the ships run,” I said.
“And he did not know about the fraud.”
“Is that true, Julian?” I asked him directly.
Julian nodded slowly.
“I didn’t know,” Julian said.
“I suspected my mother was hiding something about the estate, but I didn’t know about you.”
“I will work under your direction,” Julian said.
“If you will have me.”
“We will see how you perform,” I said.
I pressed the nib of the pen to the paper.
The blue ink flowed smoothly, leaving my name at the bottom of the first sheet: *Valerie Sterling Cross*.
It felt strange to write those names together.