Chapter 20

{Julian’s POV}

“She was there,” I said through gritted teeth. “In the boardroom. Sitting in the goddamn chair George left for the CEO.”

Silence.

Then Aaron dropped his controller. “Wait, what? Hailey Vale? Stripper girl? Corporate queen now?”

“She was in a suit,” I growled. “Looking like she belonged.”

Aaron raised both brows. “Let me guess—heels, glossy lips, attitude for days?”

“Shut up,” I snapped.

“She really sat at the table?” Marcus asked, his voice calm, but I could tell his mind was racing. “She spoke during the meeting?”

“She argued with me,” I spat. “Told the board I didn’t own anything. And no one corrected her. Not one damn person.”

Aaron chuckled. “Well, technically, she’s not wrong. We don’t own anything.”

“I’m not in the mood, Aaron.”

He lifted his hands. “Just enjoying the fall of the Lachlans, one heiress at a time.”

Before I could answer, the front doors slammed open. Debra marched in, heels clicking like gunshots on marble.

“I saw the press release,” she said without a greeting. “George handed her the company?”

“She walked into the boardroom like she built it,” I muttered. Debra’s face turned red. “She’s not one of us! She doesn’t get to wear the crown just because George lost his mind before he died!”

“We don’t know that yet,” Marcus said, standing from the couch. “We still haven’t gotten the DNA results.”

“They’re taking too long,” I said.

That’s when the doorbell rang. Williams answered, and a moment later, Agnes walked in with her husband trailing behind. She held a brown envelope in her hand, face pale but determined.

Debra stood tall. “Well?”

Agnes looked at each of us. “We ran the test twice. Once here. Once through a private lab in New York.”

The room held its breath.

“She’s not a Lachlan,” her husband said. “No blood match.”

I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe.

Aaron blinked. “Say that again.”

“She has no blood ties to George, or anyone in the Lachlan line,” Agnes repeated. “Genetically, she’s not one of us.”

A beat of silence. Then Aaron whistled low. “So… what you’re telling us is that Grandpa left everything to a stranger. A very flexible stranger.”

Debra looked like she might pass out. “This changes everything.”

Marcus finally spoke. “Or does it?”

I turned sharply. “What?”

Marcus walked slowly toward the fireplace, his gaze fixed on the burning logs like they had answers. “George never did anything without reason. If she’s not family, that doesn’t mean she’s not part of the plan. Maybe we’ve been asking the wrong question.”

Aaron raised a brow. “And what’s the right question?”

Marcus turned to face us, eyes dark with thought. “Not who she is. But why her?”

The room fell quiet again. A different kind of silence—heavier.

“She’s the last riddle,” Marcus said, barely above a whisper. “George’s final game.”

I stepped forward. “So what? We just let her take everything? Sit in our company? Live in our house?”

“No,” Debra said firmly. “We take it back.”

Aaron grinned. “Oh, we’re finally plotting? Count me in. I’ve got ideas.”

“We need a plan,” Marcus said. “Not just a tantrum. Hailey Vale is smart. She’s not just a pretty face. If she’s solving riddles, uncovering rooms, unlocking keys—she’s already ahead of us.”

“She’s not blood,” I repeated, like that would make it real. “She doesn’t belong.”

Agnes handed the envelope to Debra. “I kept copies. But you should know… George destroyed his medical files before he died. Everything he didn’t want seen is gone. The will, the company handoff, the house—all still stand.”

Debra hissed. “Then we tear her down piece by piece. Start with public image. Find a scandal. Create one.”

“She was a stripper,” Aaron said. “That’s practically a scandal buffet.”

Marcus ignored him. “No. We need to stay close. Watch her. Let her keep solving things—for now. George may have left her the map, but we still know the terrain.”

“I’m not watching her,” I said coldly. “I’m ending her.”

Marcus tilted his head. “Ending what, exactly? Her access? Her claim? Or the game?”

“She’s not winning this,” Debra snapped. “Not over my dead body.”

And then, the front doors opened again.

Clara stepped inside, face pale. She was holding something, another envelope.

“This just came,” she said, handing it to Marcus. “It was delivered to the gate.”

He opened it slowly, eyes narrowing.

“What is it?” I asked.

His lips moved as he read.

“To those who seek the truth, go where the lies began. The blood is not hers—but the choice was.”

We all went still. There was no signature.Just the Lachlan seal at the bottom. A snake swallowing its own tail. Marcus looked up.

“She may not be blood,” he said. “But she was chosen.”

And in that moment, I knew, this wasn’t about inheritance anymore.