Chapter 9: The Westbridge File

"What did Grandfather do?"

My question remained between us. Julian stood completely still. The corridor was quiet now. Beyond the tall glass windows, Crestview glittered beneath the night sky, but I could barely see the city anymore. All I could see was that photograph. My grandfather. Julian. And me. A version of myself I could not remember.

Marcus broke the silence. "Julian."

My brother finally looked at him. "Not here."

I turned toward him. "You keep saying that."

His eyes met mine. "Because there are things you should hear somewhere safe."

I folded my arms. "Then let's go somewhere safe."

He didn't argue. We walked toward the private elevator at the end of the corridor. Alexander followed without saying a word. The elevator opened immediately. Inside, the walls were covered in dark wood and brushed gold, with a small screen displaying the Sterling Global crest. Julian pressed his palm against the security panel. The elevator began moving upward.

I looked at him. "Where are we going?"

"The archive."

My eyebrows lifted. "I thought the archive was in Europe."

"It was."

The elevator stopped. The doors opened into a private floor I had never seen before. I stepped out slowly. The room stretched across the entire level. Dark shelves covered the walls from floor to ceiling. Locked cabinets stood behind glass panels, each marked with small silver numbers. A long table occupied the center, illuminated by a single row of warm pendant lights. There were no assistants. No security officers. No unnecessary decorations. Only documents. Records. History.

Julian walked toward a large black cabinet. Marcus remained near the entrance while Alexander stood beside me. My brother entered a security code. The cabinet opened. He removed a thin leather folder. My name was written on it. SOPHIA STERLING.

I stared at it. "Why does that exist?"

Julian placed it on the table. "Because Grandfather prepared it before he died."

I slowly pulled out a chair. "What is inside?"

"Everything he wanted you to know when you were ready."

I looked at him. "When I was ready?"

Julian nodded. "He specifically instructed that it should not be opened until you had returned to Sterling Global by your own choice."

I almost smiled. "Grandfather had a strange sense of timing."

Julian didn't smile back. "He also instructed that nobody should force you to return."

I lowered my eyes. For years, I had thought my family simply respected my decision to disappear. Now I wondered whether they had been waiting.

Marcus moved closer. "There is something else." He placed a second folder on the table. "Westbridge."

I looked at the label. The name suddenly felt heavier than it had minutes ago. Julian opened it. Inside were old documents, photographs, property records, and several pages marked with red security stamps. I picked up the first photograph. It showed an enormous stone building surrounded by trees.

"That's Westbridge?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"An estate."

I looked at Julian. "Just an estate?"

"No." He turned another page. "It's attached to a private holding company Grandfather established decades ago."

I frowned. "And who owns it now?"

Julian's eyes met mine. "You."

I froze. "What?"

"The company was transferred into your name years ago."

I stared at the documents. My name appeared again. Sophia Sterling. My fingers moved across the paper. "How?"

"Grandfather arranged it before his death."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Julian was silent.

I looked up. "Julian."

He exhaled slowly. "Because Grandfather believed that if you knew about everything, you would never have the freedom to choose your own life."

I looked away. That sounded exactly like the kind of decision a powerful man would make for someone he loved. But it still felt wrong. "He let me believe I had nothing."

"He let you believe you could walk away from everything."

I swallowed. "And now?"

Julian closed the folder. "Now someone else knows about Westbridge."

The room became quiet again. I looked at the photograph from the summit. The younger version of me standing beside my grandfather. "I really don't remember this."

"You were young."

"How young?"

Julian hesitated. "Sixteen."

My eyes widened. "Sixteen?"

He nodded. I stared at the photograph again. There was something about the image that bothered me. I looked happy. Not posed. Not forced. Actually happy. "What happened that day?"

Julian didn't answer.

Marcus did. "That is what we need to find out."

I looked at him. "You know something."

"I know there are missing records."

"How many?"

"Enough to matter."

Before I could respond, Julian's phone rang. He glanced at the screen. "Mark." He answered. "Yes?" His expression changed almost immediately. "Repeat that." He listened. Then he looked at me. "Damien signed."

For a second, I didn't understand. "The divorce?"

Julian nodded. "He signed the agreement."

A strange calm settled over me. Three years. Three years of waiting for a man who never understood what he had. And now, when I no longer wanted him, he had finally signed.

Marcus reached for his phone. "I'll have the final documents verified tonight."

I nodded. "Good."

Julian ended the call. "There's more."

Of course there was. "What now?"

"Damien's board is meeting tomorrow morning."

I raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"Emergency restructuring." Marcus answered. "They're trying to protect the Vance Group from further losses."

I looked at the Westbridge file. Then at my own name. Then at the photograph. So many things had changed in one night. Damien had finally signed my divorce. His company was beginning to feel the consequences of his decisions. And somehow, while all of that was happening, someone had opened an old family secret.

I closed the folder. "I want to see Westbridge."

Julian immediately shook his head. "Not tonight."

"Why?"

"Because we don't know who is watching."

I stood. "Then tomorrow."

He studied me for a moment. "Tomorrow."

I picked up my phone. There was no new message. For the first time since the summit, the screen was silent. I should have felt relieved. Instead, I felt watched.

As we left the archive, I glanced back at the locked cabinet. Something about that photograph refused to leave my mind. Sixteen-year-old me. My grandfather. Westbridge. And a memory that had somehow disappeared from my life. I had spent the last three years believing Damien Vance was the greatest mistake I had ever made. Maybe he was. But as the elevator doors closed, I realize

d something far more unsettling. My marriage had not been the only secret someone had kept from me. And tomorrow, I intended to uncover every one of them.