Page 33 of The Cruel Heir
I stilled, my fingers curling into fists. An arranged marriage?
Frankie kept scrolling. "It merged the Kingsley and Johnston families. Your father promised his first-born son, meaning you, to Zara’s mother’s future daughter. It was a power move. A way to unite their assets and influence. But, after her mother died, the agreement was buried."
I clenched my jaw. "Buried by who?"
Frankie’s tone was humorless. "Your mother and John Johnston. Madeline inked the pact the moment Zara’s mother’s health tanked, an insurance policy masquerading as charity. Your own father paid the hush-lawyers, and Madeline buried the filings. But legally? It’s still in effect. Zara is already yours. This was probably why her father was throwing her at Chadwick."
“They signed the deal long before either parent lost their shine,” Frankie says, scrolling. “Back when Zara’s mother still hosted charity galas with your parents, and both families dripped clout. Her mother’s fortune, and reputation, carried the Johnstons into those rooms, but when she died, her husband inherited everything and wasted it, chasing power he could never buy. Then the Johnston fortune tanked, the widowhood headlines hit, and Madeline decided the Johnstons were bad optics. She and John paid a fixer to bury the contract, and iced Zara out to save face. But ink doesn’t evaporate. It just waits.”
A slow, dark realization settled over me. This wasn’t just about control. My father had ensured that, no matter what, Zara belonged to the Kingsley empire.
"Fuck if I’d allow her to go with Chadwick. Does she know?" I asked.
"Not a chance. This was buried so deep it took me an hour to decrypt it." Frankie leaned back. "If she ever finds out-"
"She won’t." My voice was bitter, final. "I’ll make sure of it."
Frankie hesitated, then nodded. "So what’s the plan?"
I exhaled slowly, my mind already working through the possibilities. “First, we make sure she never has access to these documents. Then, we control her finances and keep her dependent."
Frankie smirked, shifting slightly in his chair. "And if she asks questions?"
I leaned back, exhaling slowly. "We make sure she never finds the answers."
The weight of the revelation settled between us. My father had been meticulous in hiding this, and for good reason. He’d ensured that Zara wasn’t just a name in the will. She was legally cemented into the Kingsley dynasty. And not just as some beneficiary collecting scraps. No, he had given her something far more dangerous. Power.
I frowned as Frankie scrolled further through the document. The text was thick with legalese, deliberately buried under layers of redundant clauses, and financial jargon.
"It’s not just an inheritance," Frankie muttered. "It’s an irrevocable trust. She has a legal claim to a section of Kingsley holdings, Sterling. A significant one."
My jaw ticked. "How significant?"
Frankie hesitated, then clicked open a secondary attachment. "Equal to yours."
The words hung in the air like a loaded gun. My fingers flexed against the armrest, a slow burn igniting in my gut.
"That’s impossible," I said, voice tight.
"It’s real," Frankie countered. "Your father locked it in place years ago. She’s untouchable, unless she willingly hands it over." He looked at me, waiting. "And we both know that won’t happen."
And yet, she stayed. Maybe because she didn’t know the full extent of it yet. Or maybe because fear was still wrapped tighter than control. I had insurance recordings, contracts, shadows of consent. I’d never use them, but she didn’t know that. And fear kept people obedient far better than love.
My stomach twisted. I had underestimated my father once again. This wasn’t just some charitable act of goodwill. This was insurance. A back door left open for Zara, giving her an escape route, a level of independence that I had no control over.
Frankie exhaled, shaking his head. "You’re playing a dangerous game, Sterling."
"I won't lose." I picked up my whiskey glass, rolling it between my fingers, before taking a slow sip. "Not with her."
Frankie rubbed a hand down his face. "And if she figures it out?"
I set the glass down, tilting my head slightly. "Then she’ll learn that I don’t just hold power. I own it."
A beat of silence. Then Frankie chuckled, shaking his head. "You really are a piece of work."
I leaned back, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Took you this long to figure that out?"
Frankie looked at my head and said, "Yeah, and it looks like you need a shape up, son."
