Chapter 179

PETER’S POV

Sylvester had been the last competent one in that family. Now he was gone.

I sat in my office with the curtains drawn, the room sunk in amber shadows from a single lamp on the desk. The will lay open in front of me, its neat script written with the old man’s precision. I’d read it three times already, and every time I finished, a grin tugged wider at my mouth.

The bastard had known everything.

Every weakness, every betrayal, every scheme brewing in his brood. He’d chosen his words carefully, weaving control even from his grave.

I lifted my glass of whiskey and let the warmth burn down my throat.

If I were in his shoes, perhaps I would have done the same. The man had nerve. He hadn’t ruled with sentiment. He had ruled with foresight. And I respected that.

The papers rustled when I closed them, sliding the will back into its envelope.

MedDirect was finally steadying, the bleeding slowing, the patient finding its heartbeat again. Long nights, creative accounting, and more