Chapter 3: The Ghost of 1995
Inside the grand foyer, the atmosphere had shifted from hostile to chaotic. Julian was frantically pacing, trying to process the impossibility of what he had just heard. "This is insane. My mother is my mother. I have pictures, memories..."
"You have staged photos and rehearsed stories," Sarah interrupted, opening the envelope. She spread the documents out on the foyer table—a table that Beatrice had once used to sign contracts that ruined competitors. Now, it held her own downfall.
"I found the death certificate from the 1995 Sterling fire," Sarah continued, pointing to a highlighted line. "It lists Beatrice Sterling as deceased. I found the dental records. And," she turned to look at Beatrice, who had slumped into a chair, looking suddenly very old, "I found the matching fingerprints on a discarded wine glass from the last charity gala."
Beatrice buried her face in her hands, her composure completely shattered. "You... you were never supposed to know. I was only trying to survive. I was broke, the world was ending, and that house... the Sterling estate... it was there for the taking."
"You stole a life," Julian whispered, the horror dawning on him. "All these years... you weren't my mother?"
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"I loved you like my own!" Beatrice shrieked, looking up with wild, desperate eyes. "I gave you everything! I built this company for you!"
"You built it on a corpse," Sarah said, her voice cold as the rain outside. "And you used me to protect that lie. You thought I was a threat to the family reputation, so you pushed me out. You didn't realize that the moment you started the eviction, you opened the door to the truth."
