“Of course not!” Miranda snapped, though her eyes darted toward the heavy oak door of the private library down the hall.

“She is spinning fairy tales to save herself.”

“I am not trespassing in my own house,” I said.

I lowered my hand, the heavy gold chain cold against my skin.

“The founding charter of the Sterling Empire states that the elder sibling holds sixty percent of the voting shares.”

“Clara was the eldest.”

“Arthur was two years younger.”

Julian’s eyes widened as the pieces began to fit together in his analytical mind.

“The founding share,” Julian whispered. “The one we’ve never been able to locate in the archives.”

“Because it was never Arthur’s to give,” I said.

“He hid the truth, and when Clara died, he assumed the secret died with her.”

“But she passed the truth down to my grandfather, Elias.”

“And Elias passed it to me.”

Miranda took a step forward, her manicured nails curling into fists.

“You have nothing,” she hissed. “A cheap necklace and a made-up story.”

“The courts will throw you out on your ear.”