His Elegant Girlfriend Fed Him a Poisoned Anniversary Cake — Until a Homeless Little Girl Begged Him to Swap the Plates

The private doctor, following Alexander's strict instructions, looked at Julian with a grim, sorrowful expression.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Vance," the doctor lied flawlessly. "Mr. Sterling suffered a massive, catastrophic cardiac event at dinner. His heart stopped. We couldn't revive him."

Julian froze. He covered his mouth with his hand, acting out a perfect performance of a devastated best friend. But from behind the two-way glass, Alexander saw the micro-expressions. He saw the gleam of pure, unadulterated triumph flash in Julian’s eyes.

Julian rushed past the doctor and entered Celeste’s recovery room. The doctor quietly closed the door, leaving the two conspirators alone.

Julian walked up to the bed. He looked down at Celeste, who was pale and sweating, groggily opening her eyes.

"It's done," Julian whispered excitedly, dropping the fake grief instantly. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a thick stack of legal documents. "The poison worked. He's dead. The board will recognize this revised will by tomorrow morning. We did it, Celeste. The Sterling Empire is ours."

Celeste tried to speak, her eyes wide with panic as she looked around the room, but the sedatives made her words slur into a pathetic groan.

"I know, baby, I know it was stressful," Julian smiled, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "But you played the perfect loving girlfriend for two years. Now, you're the grieving widow, and I'm the new CEO. I'll make sure the kitchen staff who helped us is paid off and shipped out of the country."

Julian laughed—a cold, arrogant sound that echoed off the sterile hospital walls. He had confessed to everything. Murder, conspiracy, and fraud, entirely unprompted.