Chapter 6

I vanished for three days.

I kept my phone off and cut contact with everyone.

Ryan went to the police.

He stood outside the precinct holding an impromptu press conference, his eyes bloodshot, his voice choked with tears.

"My wife, Chloe Sterling, has been emotionally unstable since her grandfather passed."

"She developed severe paranoia regarding his will. I've been desperately trying to get her psychiatric help."

"Three days ago, she ran away. I've searched every hospital and hotel in the state."

"I'm begging the public: if anyone sees Chloe, please contact me. I just want my wife safe at home."

The video blew up across TikTok and Twitter.

The comments were practically worshipping Ryan as the husband of the century.

*[This chick is totally unhinged. Her husband is literally an angel and she's pulling this crap?]*

*[If she's psychotic, lock her in a psych ward before she hurts someone.]*

*[Her grandfather just died and she's pulling stunts for inheritance clout? Disgusting.]*

My dear relatives rushed to local news channels to add fuel to the fire.

Uncle Richard: "Chloe was spoiled rotten from childhood. No family values, just pure greed."

Aunt Eleanor: "Ryan is such a devoted boy. We, as her elders, are deeply ashamed of Chloe's behavior."

Cousin Brad: "Some people bite the hand that feeds them. Stay strong, brother Ryan!"

The entire internet was tearing me apart.

Not one voice defended me.

Not a single one.

Meanwhile, Ryan's high-priced legal team had finalized every transfer document.

On the twenty-first day after Grandpa’s death, Ryan scheduled the official board meeting to sign over the Sterling Group’s majority shares into his own name.

The venue was the executive boardroom at the Sterling headquarters.

All major institutional shareholders were summoned to witness and ratify the transfer.

I walked through the lobby.

I wore a tailored black pantsuit, my hair pulled back into a sleek, razor-sharp ponytail, my face painted with minimalist, icy makeup.

When the heavy frosted doors of the boardroom swung open, the room froze.

Ryan sat at the head of the long conference table, a custom fountain pen in hand.

Richard sat to his right, Eleanor to his left, and Brad slouched in the corner playing on his phone.

Seven veteran shareholders—men who had built this company from the dirt alongside my grandfather—sat flanking the table.

"Chloe?"

Richard was the first to react, jumping out of his leather chair. "How the hell did security let you in here?"

Ryan set his pen down slowly and stood up.

His face cycled through shock, irritation, and finally landed on that sickeningly familiar look of tender heartbreak.

"Chloe... where have you been? I was so worried about you."

"Worried I hadn't died in a ditch so you could steal my company in peace?"

"How can you say something so cruel?" His voice remained soft, but his eyes turned like flint.

Eleanor slammed her hand on the wood. "Chloe Sterling! Don't you dare cause a scene here!"

"Legitimate business is taking place. You have no legal standing in this boardroom!"

I swept my gaze across the table. "This company was founded by my grandfather. I grew up running through these hallways. And you're telling me I have no standing?"

"You have no inheritance rights," Richard barked, tapping a copy of the will. "The legal documents state that clear as day!"

"That will is a forgery."

"Produce evidence or get out before security drags you out!"

I stared Richard dead in the eye. "You want evidence? Fine. I have it."

The entire boardroom fell dead silent.

Ryan’s brow twitched. "Chloe, please stop embarrassing yourself. Let's go home and—"

"I'm done listening to you lie."

I strode to the head of the conference table, unzipped my tote bag, pulled out a black USB drive, and plugged it directly into the master projector console.

"Chloe, what are you doing?" Ryan’s voice dropped an octave, laced with warning.

"Showing everyone what Arthur Sterling actually had to say."

I hit play.

The giant projector screen flickered to life.

There sat Grandpa in his study, wearing his favorite worn gray cardigan. He looked frail, but his eyes were sharp as a hawk’s.

He stared straight into the camera lens and spoke with slow, deliberate clarity:

"I am Arthur Sterling."

"I am recording this video because I have reason to suspect someone is planning to manipulate my final will."

"After my death, if any document surfaces claiming that I have bequeathed my assets or the Sterling Group to Ryan Vance, it is an absolute and total fabrication."

"My entire estate belongs solely to my granddaughter, Chloe Sterling. No individual shall usurp her birthright."