Chapter 39: The Real Will

The bolts retracted with a sound like a guillotine resetting. The steel door of the wall safe swung open, the hinges groaning in the silent bunker. Inside, it wasn't stacked with cash or jewels. There was only a single, leather-bound folio.

I reached in, my fingers brushing the cool leather. It felt heavy, weighted with sixty years of intent.

"Open it," Ben whispered, his flashlight beam trembling slightly.

I untied the leather strap. The folio fell open, revealing a stack of vellum pages covered in dense, spidery calligraphy.

*Last Will and Testament of Archibald Sterling.*

I scanned the preamble. The usual legal boilerplate. Being of sound mind and body. Revoking all prior wills.

Then I got to the distribution of assets.

*Article IV: The Trust.*

*I hereby establish the Sterling Family Trust, to be held for the benefit of my direct descendants.*

I kept reading, my eyes skipping over the clauses about property maintenance and charitable donations. I needed the definition of "descendant."

There it was.

*Article VI: Beneficiaries.*

*The entirety of the Trust, including the Estate, the holdings, and all liquid assets, shall pass directly to the first grandchild born of my body.*

*Born of my body.*

It was specific. Cruelly specific. Archibald knew about Edith. He knew she was adopted. He wrote this clause to cut her out.

*In the event of multiple grandchildren, the Trust shall be administered by the eldest until the youngest reaches the age of twenty-five.*

I did the math. Leo was born June 14th. I was born June 15th. Mark was born June 20th.

Leo was the eldest.

But Leo had been declared dead.

*In the event of the death of a beneficiary, their share shall pass to their surviving siblings.*

Since I was Leo's twin—his sister—I was the next in line.

And since Mark wasn't a Sterling... since he was a Miller... he got nothing.

But there was a codicil. A handwritten addendum at the very back, dated 1985. Three years before we were born.

*If no biological grandchild survives, the Trust shall dissolve, and all assets shall be liquidated and donated to the St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital.*

"She gets nothing," I whispered. "Even if she killed us all. Even if she erased every single Sterling heir... she still gets nothing."

"She didn't know," Ben said, reading over my shoulder. "She thought if she got rid of the competition, she would inherit by default. As the only surviving child."

"She didn't read the codicil," I said. "Or maybe Archibald hid it."

I looked at the signature on the codicil. It wasn't Archibald's shaky scrawl. It was firm. Clear.

*Witnessed by: Aris Thorne.*

Thorne knew.

He knew about the will. He knew about the money. He knew that if the Sterling babies died, the fortune went to the hospital.

And Thorne... Thorne was on the board of the hospital.

He didn't help Edith steal the babies to help her get the money.

He helped her steal them to ensure the money *didn't* go to the hospital.

Why?

I flipped through the folio again. There was a letter tucked into the back pocket.

*Archibald,*

*I've done as you asked. The codicil is signed. But you must understand... if Edith finds out, she will burn this family to the ground.*

*Protect Clara. She is the only hope.*

*Aris.*

Thorne wasn't just a co-conspirator. He was a double agent.

He helped Archibald write the will that disinherited Edith. But then he helped Edith steal the babies that circumvented the will.

He was playing both sides.

"He wanted the money for himself," I realized. "He fathered me... and he delivered Leo... and he helped Edith fake the records... all to keep the Sterling fortune in play."

"How?" Ben asked.

"Blackmail," I said. "He knew Edith wasn't a Sterling. He knew she stole the babies. He could blow her world apart at any moment. So she paid him. She paid him millions over the years to keep quiet."

"And to keep Leo sick," Ben added. "Because a sick heir generates medical bills. Bills that go to Thorne's clinic."

It was a parasite feeding on a parasite.

"We have it," I said, closing the folio. "We have the proof that Edith isn't an heir. We have the proof that Leo is. And we have the proof that Thorne knew everything."

I shoved the folio into the diaper bag.

"We need to get to the hospital," I said. "We need to stop Thorne before he takes Leo anywhere."

We ran back up the ramp, bursting out into the pre-dawn gray. The air smelled of rain and wet ash.

We climbed into the rental car. I threw the diaper bag into the back seat next to the black metal box.

"Drive," I told Ben.

He gunned the engine. We sped away from the ruins of the Hoard, leaving the ghosts of my childhood behind.

But as we turned onto the main road, a set of headlights appeared in the rearview mirror.

Bright. High. An SUV.

"Is it the police?" Ben asked.

"No," I said, squinting. "No lights."

The SUV surged forward, closing the gap. It rammed our bumper.

The rental car skidded, tires screaming on the wet pavement. Ben fought the wheel, correcting the slide.

"They're trying to run us off the road!"

I looked back. The SUV was black. Tinted windows. No license plates.

It was Edith's security team. The ones who had taken Leo.

"They must have tracked us," I said. "Or they were waiting at the house."

The SUV hit us again, harder this time. The rental car spun. We careened off the road, crashing through a wooden fence and bouncing into a field.

The car shuddered to a halt. The airbags didn't deploy.

"Go!" Ben yelled. "Run!"

We scrambled out of the car, grabbing the bag and the box. We ran into the cornfield, the tall stalks whipping against our faces.

Behind us, the SUV doors opened. Men with flashlights poured out.

"Find them!" a voice shouted. "And get the box!"

We ran until our lungs burned. We ran until the corn gave way to trees. We ran until we stumbled onto a paved road.

A sign loomed ahead in the darkness.

*St. Jude's Hospital - 2 Miles.*

"We can make it," Ben wheezed.

But then, another car pulled up. Not an SUV. A sleek, silver sedan.

The window rolled down.

It was Thorne.

"Get in," he said.

"Go to hell," I panted.

"I can get you past security," Thorne said. "I can get you to the boy. Edith has him in the isolation wing. You'll never get in without a code."

I looked at Ben. He shook his head. "It's a trap."

"It's the only way," Thorne said. "She's going to move him in an hour. Once he's on that plane, he's gone."

I looked at the black box in my arms. The leverage.

"Why?" I asked Thorne. "Why help us now?"

Thorne looked at me. His eyes—my eyes—were tired.

"Because she stopped paying," he said.

I opened the door.