The library doors clicked shut, locking the three of them inside. Julian Sterling didn’t hesitate; he slapped the DNA analysis report onto the mahogany desk in front of Malcolm Fotheringham.
“We know,” Julian said, his voice steady. “100% match. You aren’t a cousin. You aren’t a doppelgänger. You are his twin.”
Maya Khan stood beside him, watching Malcolm’s reaction. She expected denial, panic, or a lawyer’s deflection. instead, Malcolm didn’t even look up from his paperwork. He simply picked up his coffee cup–the replacement for the one they had stolen–and took a sip.
“Took you longer than I expected,” Malcolm said, his tone bored. “I assumed the ‘Stabilizers’ of this narrative would be faster.”
“You admit it?” Maya asked, stunned by his cold composure.
Malcolm stood up, walking to the window to look out at the estate that should have been half his. “I admit that in 1992, Beatrice Croft made a choice. She kept the ‘perfect’ baby and discarded the one with the birthmark. I am the spare heir, Dr. Khan. I am the ‘Seed’ that was thrown in the trash,” he said, turning back with a smile that was sharp enough to cut glass. “And now, I’ve come to audit the books.”