My grandfather had been dead for three days, but the man who murdered him was standing beside his casket, smiling like a king. I knew because Grandpa had left me the proof—and Raymond had no idea it was hidden beneath my black funeral coat.

The neck brace made every breath painful. Two nights earlier, a masked attacker had ambushed me in the parking garage beneath Halcyon Technologies, slamming my head against a concrete pillar before demanding, “Where is Elias Vale’s final will?”

I had refused to answer.

Now I stood beside Grandpa’s open casket inside the marble chapel he had funded, staring at the face of the only person who had ever treated me like family.

My uncle Raymond pushed through the mourners in a tailored suit, followed by his wife, his attorneys, and several board members he had already begun calling “my executive team.”

“Move,” he muttered.

I remained still.

His eyes dropped to my brace.

“Didn’t learn your lesson?”

Before I could reply, Raymond drove both hands into my chest. I stumbled sideways, striking a funeral wreath. White roses crashed across the floor.

Gasps echoed through the chapel.

Raymond leaned close enough for me to smell the expensive whiskey on his breath.

“Get out of the way, you penniless bastard. This entire tech empire belongs to my bloodline now.”

Then he slapped me.

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