He threw me out on the street after inheriting 75 million, believing I was a burden. But when the lawyer read the final clause, his triumphant smile turned into a face of panic.

“I knew it!” he shouted, ignoring protocol. “It’s all mine! Mine!” He turned to me with a cruel smile. “Did you hear that, Vanessa? Seventy-five million. And you have… nothing. You’re pathetic.”

I sat frozen, humiliation burning my throat. His advisors snickered. I could already picture myself leaving there, defeated one last time.

Curtis grabbed his bag.

—Okay, Sterling. Get the transfers ready. I’m out of here.

“Sit down, Mr. Curtis,” Mr. Sterling said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried authority that chilled the room. “I’m not finished.”

Curtis paused, annoyed, but sat down.

Sterling turned the page. The rustle of paper was the only sound in the room.

“There’s an additional clause,” the lawyer said, looking Curtis straight in the eye. “A clause your father drafted two days before he went into a coma. It’s titled ‘Loyalty and Character Clause.’”

Curtis rolled his eyes.

—Dad and his moral lessons. Skip it.

“I can’t skip it,” Sterling replied. “Because the inheritance is conditional on this clause.”

He cleared his throat and began reading in a firm voice: