His Wealthy Family Forced Him to Stand at Their 30th Anniversary Dinner — Until He Put the Gold Envelope Back in His Pocket

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The truth hit the room like a sonic blast. The lavish lifestyle, the luxury cars, the multi-million-dollar suburban estate they had used to look down on everyone else—it hadn't belonged to Arthur Sterling for months.

It belonged to Connor. The son they treated like an outcast. The son they banished to stand by the bar like a servant.

"Connor..." Eleanor took a stumbling step forward, her hands outstretched, tears ruining her expensive mascara. "Baby... please. You know how stressful the anniversary was. I didn't mean it! You know how your mother gets when she's overwhelmed! We love you! We have always loved you!"

"Don't call me baby, Eleanor," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. "You didn't care about my feelings when Brad was laughing in my face while sitting in my seat."

Mia spun around on Brad, her eyes blazing with sudden panic. "Say something! Tell him you were out of line! Brad, apologize to my brother right now!"

Brad, seeing the entire luxury empire crumbling beneath his feet, tried to shift gears. But narcissists don't know how to apologize without venom.

"Hey, look, Connor," Brad said, putting his hands up defensively with a nervous chuckle. "It was just a misunderstanding, bro. We were just joking around at dinner. You can't honestly evict your own parents over a bad joke. That's psychotic. If you do that, what will people say about you? Your reputation in the city will be ruined. People will know you threw your elderly parents out on the street!"

I looked at Brad. Then I pulled a sleek iPad from the counter drawer and unlocked the screen.

"Speaking of reputations, Brad," I said smoothly. "Let's talk about yours."

Brad's smirk froze.

"Bradley Thomas Keller," I read off the screen. "Thirty-two years old, not twenty-eight. Disbarred former financial advisor from Ohio. Two active bench warrants for wire fraud and check kiting in Cuyahoga County. You met my sister at a hotel lounge in downtown Chicago while fleeing an investigation for draining your previous girlfriend's inheritance."

Mia’s breath hitched in her throat. She looked at Brad as if seeing a ghost. "What? Brad... what is he talking about?"

"He’s lying!" Brad shouted, his voice jumping an octave as he lunged forward toward the counter to grab the iPad. "He fabricated that! He’s trying to break us up!"

Before Brad could touch the marble counter, I stepped into his path. I didn't strike him. I simply gripped his wrist with the precision and force of a steel vice.

Brad cried out in pain, dropping to one knee as I applied pressure to the radial nerve.

"I have two private investigators and an off-duty Chicago police sergeant sitting in an unmarked cruiser right outside the lobby doors," I whispered into his ear. "They have your extradition paperwork ready to file with the state attorney's office."

Brad whimpered, all of his bravado dissolving into pathetic, shuddering terror.

"Mia," I said, still holding Brad pinned to the floor. "Check the pocket of his jacket."

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