If Victor Sterling attempted to acquire Maison Aurelia through fraudulent financial arrangements, the company would immediately revert to the control of Daniel Carter's family trust.
Emily was the sole beneficiary.
James looked at her.
"Your grandfather didn't merely leave you a company."
He paused.
"He left you the power to stop Victor Sterling."
Emily slowly closed the document.
For the first time, she understood why Arthur had insisted she come to the boutique herself.
Why he had left the letters.
Why he had hidden the notebook.
Why he had entrusted James with the evidence.
He had been waiting for her.
And now she was ready.
Emily looked toward Sophia.
Then toward the lawyer.
"Then we stop him."
James nodded.
"But we must do it carefully."
Emily's expression hardened.
"No."
She placed the document on the table.
"We do it properly."
And for the first time in eighteen years, the truth had a chance to be heard.
By the time Emily left James Miller's office, the city had begun to brighten beneath the morning sun.
She carried a copy of the original agreement.
Sophia carried the transaction records.
James kept the original documents locked inside his office safe.
"One more thing," he said before they left.
Emily turned.
"What?"
James looked toward the street.
"Victor Sterling has spent eighteen years trying to obtain this agreement. If he discovers that you have it, he will do everything possible to stop you."
Emily nodded.
"I understand."
James shook his head.
"No, Emily. You don't."
He stepped closer.
"Your father was not afraid of losing money. He was afraid of what Victor might do to the people he loved."
Emily looked down.
For a moment, she felt like the little girl who had stood beside Arthur at the funeral.
Then she remembered the recording.
Her father's voice.
His courage.
His final words.
She raised her eyes.
"Then I'll make sure Victor never threatens anyone again."
James smiled faintly.
"Your grandfather would have been proud."
Emily and Sophia walked outside.
The street was quiet.
A black car stood across the road.
Its windows were tinted.
Emily noticed it immediately.
Sophia followed her gaze.
"Do you think—"
Emily nodded.
"Yes."
The car remained stationary.
Then its engine started.
It drove away slowly.
Sophia looked worried.
"We should call the police."
Emily shook her head.
"Not yet."
She glanced toward the disappearing vehicle.
"We need to know who sent it."
Victor Sterling received the news at eleven fifteen.
His assistant stood beside the desk.
"Mr. Sterling, Emily Carter met with James Miller this morning."
Victor looked up.
"What did she obtain?"
"We don't know."
"Then find out."
The assistant hesitated.
"There's another matter."
Victor placed his pen down.
"What?"
"Richard Hayes has been suspended."
Victor's expression hardened.
"By whom?"
"Emily Carter."
Victor leaned back.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he laughed.
"Arthur's granddaughter."
He stood and walked toward the window.
The city stretched beneath him.
Millions of people.
Thousands of businesses.
Hundreds of opportunities.
Victor had spent his entire life believing that power belonged to those who understood how to use it.
He had never imagined that a young woman in worn sneakers could threaten everything he had built.
But Emily had something he hadn't expected.
The original agreement.
And perhaps the recording.
Victor turned.
"Contact Richard."
"Yes, sir."
"Tell him I want to see him tonight."
The assistant nodded.
Then Victor added something.
"Tell him to bring the money."
The assistant froze.
"What money?"
Victor smiled.
"The money he stole."
Richard Hayes arrived at Victor's private residence at eight in the evening.
He looked exhausted.
His suit was wrinkled.
His face was pale.
He had spent the entire day receiving calls from lawyers, directors, and employees who suddenly seemed eager to distance themselves from him.
Victor sat in a leather chair beside the fireplace.
He didn't offer Richard a drink.
He didn't ask how he was feeling.
He simply pointed toward the chair opposite him.
"Sit."
Richard obeyed.
Victor looked at him.
"How much did you take?"
Richard swallowed.
"Eight million."
Victor nodded.
"And how much remains?"
"Approximately six."
Victor's expression changed.
"Approximately?"
Richard looked down.
"I invested some of it."
Victor stood.
"You invested my money?"
Richard froze.
"Your money?"
Victor smiled coldly.
"Did you think I gave you eight million dollars because I liked you?"
Richard's face drained of color.
"I thought—"