Chapter 5 - The Fixer's Truth
Uncle Robert slowly released his grip on my jacket, backing away with his hands raised. His face was pale, sweating profusely. My mother let out a terrified gasp, shrinking behind one of the leather sofas.
“Thomas?” Robert stammered. “What is the meaning of this? You’re just a servant!”
“I was Arthur Sterling’s head of security for thirty years,” Thomas corrected, keeping the gun steady as he walked into the room. He grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the door. “He paid me very well to keep his family’s disgusting secrets buried. But my final contract was to protect Elias. And I always honor my contracts.”
“You can’t do this!” my mother shrieked. “Elias, you come back here! You owe us!”
“I don’t owe you anything,” I said, looking at the woman who gave birth to me, feeling absolutely nothing but pity. “You mocked Grandpa’s gift. You made your bed. Now sleep in it.”
Thomas and I walked backward out of the library, pulling the heavy doors shut. He immediately guided me down the servant’s corridor, moving with a fast, tactical precision that showed his military background.
We burst out the back doors into the freezing rain and sprinted toward a black SUV parked in the service alley. Thomas jumped into the driver’s seat, and I threw myself into the passenger side just as we heard shouting from the main house. The tires squealed, kicking up gravel as we tore down the long driveway and out the estate gates.
For ten minutes, neither of us spoke. I just stared out the window, watching the wealthy suburbs blur into the neon lights of the city.
“Did they kill him?” I finally asked, my voice cracking.
Thomas gripped the steering wheel. “Robert was embezzling from the company for years to pay off a European crime syndicate. The syndicate gave him a deadline: Friday. When your grandfather found out, he threatened to expose Robert and dissolve the company entirely.”
“So Robert poisoned him,” I guessed, feeling sick to my stomach.
“Yes. A slow-acting beta-blocker that mimics a heart attack,” Thomas nodded. “Your grandfather knew it was happening. But he needed to secure his personal, untraceable fortune to the one person who wouldn’t give it to Robert. He needed to find out who was actually worthy of the Sterling legacy.”
Thomas reached into his jacket pocket and handed me a heavy, brass key.
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“What’s this?” I asked.
“The $10 million was just the test, Elias,” Thomas said, looking at me in the rearview mirror. “That key opens a vault in Geneva. Your grandfather didn’t give his assets to charity. He gave the entire $4 billion empire to you.”
