Her Father Let His New Wife Throw Her Out Of The Gala — Until Her Phone Screen Lit Up In The Black Towncar

Claire motioned for Marcus to trace the line, but Marcus shook his head; the signal was routing through an encrypted burner switchboard.

"Why would anyone look for Eleanor's journal in a derelict apartment in Queens?" Claire demanded, leaning close to the receiver. "You swore under oath at your deposition that you burned all her personal effects when you married that woman."

"I lied!" Richard gasped, panic clawing at his throat. Background noises filtered through the call—sirens screaming in the distance, trash cans clattering against wet asphalt. "I lied because if I admitted I kept it, they would have butchered me in my sleep years ago! Claire, I never loved that woman. I married her because she was Julian Vance's personal enforcer!"

Claire went rigid.

Julian Vance. The name hung in the library like a suffocating fog.

Thirty years ago, Julian Vance had been her mother’s original business partner during the founding era of Sterling Maritime. He had vanished without a trace following a catastrophic boardroom coup that left Eleanor in sole control of the global shipping lanes. Rumors had claimed Julian took his own life after the SEC launched an investigation into his offshore accounts.

"Julian Vance is dead, Richard," Claire said coldly. "He died before I was born."

"He didn't die!" Richard screamed into the phone, the sound echoing through the quiet room. "He built a phantom syndicate in Singapore! Eleanor stole the patent for the automated port routing software from him, Claire! That software built every dollar of the Sterling empire! Your mother didn't create a shipping giant—she stole an empire, and Julian sent that woman into my life to destroy us from the inside out!"

A loud crash exploded through Richard's side of the line. The sickening sound of shattering glass, followed by a violent thud and Richard’s terrified shriek.

"Richard?" Claire shouted, losing her composed facade. "Richard!"

A heavy scuffle sounded through the microphone. Someone was dragged across broken glass. Then a calm, deliberate voice spoke into the receiver, completely detached from the violence that had just taken place.

"Good evening, Miss Sterling. Your father is somewhat indisposed at the moment. But we have retrieved what was promised. We will see you at the midnight auction."