Julian nodded slowly.

“I can’t undo who I was,” he said. “But I can decide who I become.”

Before Eliza could answer, his phone rang.

His father’s name lit the screen.

Richard Sterling.

Julian declined the call.

It rang again.

He declined it again.

Eliza watched him. “You should answer.”

“No.”

“Julian.”

He looked at her. “No. Not tonight.”

The third call came from Victoria.

Then a text appeared.

Family meeting. Tomorrow. 9 a.m. Do not make this worse.

Julian almost laughed.

Make this worse?

For the first time in his life, his family’s command sounded small.

The next morning, Julian walked into the Sterling estate in Chestnut Hill and found his parents and sister waiting in his father’s study.

The room looked exactly as it always had—dark wood, antique rugs, oil portraits of de:ad Sterlings who had made fortunes in railroads, banking, steel, real estate, and intimidation dressed as tradition.

Richard Sterling stood behind his desk.

Tall, silver-haired, and severe, he had built his life on control. He looked at Julian not as a son, but as an underperforming executive.

His mother, Caroline, sat near the window in cream cashmere, one hand over her pearls.

Victoria stood by the fireplace, checking her phone with surgical calm.

“So it’s true,” Richard said. “Four children.”

“My sons,” Julian replied.

Caroline inhaled dramatically. “Oh, Julian.”

Victoria looked up. “Have you confirmed paternity?”

Julian stared at her. “Look at them.”

“That’s not a legal standard.”

“I’m doing a DNA test because Eliza agreed it would protect the boys legally, not because I doubt her.”

Richard’s mouth tightened. “This woman hid four Sterling children from us for five years.”

“This woman raised four boys alone while we sat in rooms like this judging her.”

Caroline flinched. “We did what was best for you.”

“No,” Julian said. “You did what preserved your image.”

Richard walked around the desk. “Enough sentiment. The situation is clear. The children are Sterlings. They need proper schooling, security, trust structures, medical oversight, and guidance. They cannot remain in a cramped apartment with a mother who has already proven herself deceptive.”

Julian felt a cold rage rise in him.

“Choose your next words carefully.”

“She kept them from you,” Victoria said. “That matters.”

“So does why.”

Richard scoffed. “There is no justification.”

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