He opened the door.
Arthur Vance stood outside with a forensic accountant and officials there to formally serve the required documents.
“Julian Sterling?” Arthur asked.
“Yes. Who are you?”
Arthur entered and placed a gold-embossed folder on the same walnut dining table Julian had struck the night before.
Eleanor hurried out of the kitchen.
“What is the meaning of this? Julian, do something!”
Arthur calmly opened the folder.
“Mrs. Sterling, there appears to be considerable confusion about who owns this residence.”
He laid several documents on the table.
“This is the original deed to Penthouse 4B. The property was purchased in full five years ago through a trust belonging solely to Genevieve Vance.”
Julian stared at him.
Arthur continued.
“There is no mortgage on this property, Mr. Sterling.”
Julian’s face went pale.
“What are you talking about? I pay five thousand dollars every month!”
“Correct,” Arthur said. “Those payments were made under the occupancy agreement you signed before the wedding.”
Julian turned toward me.
I folded my arms.
“A penthouse like this rents for around twenty-five thousand a month,” I said. “I covered the rest because I didn’t care about making you feel small.”
His eyes widened.
“For years, I subsidized this lifestyle while you told everyone you were the one providing it.”
“No,” he whispered. “That’s impossible.”
Arthur pulled another file from his briefcase.
“There is another matter.”
Eleanor froze.
“Our preliminary financial review traced the twenty-five-thousand-dollar monthly transfers Julian has been giving you.”
Arthur flipped through several pages.
“A substantial portion of those funds was subsequently sent to Ethan Sterling in Ohio and used toward construction expenses.”
Julian slowly turned toward his mother.
“What?”
Eleanor’s face drained of color.
“It was for the family! Your brother needed a home!”
“You told me you were investing it,” Julian said.
