The heavy mahogany doors of the library clicked shut, cutting off the angry voices of the three women outside. Arthur locked the door with a brass key and turned around. Clara was sitting on the leather sofa, holding Leo in her lap. The little boy had calmed down completely, restlessly playing with a button on Clara's sleeve while resting his head on her shoulder.
Arthur: Tell me the truth, Clara. And don't leave out a single detail.
Clara: I have nothing to hide, Mr. Sterling. I just do my job.
Arthur: Your job is to clean the estate and assist the kitchen staff. It is not to act as a mother to the heir of the Sterling fortune.
Clara: Somebody had to love him!
Clara's voice cracked, but her eyes remained steady as she stared directly at the powerful billionaire. Arthur blinked, surprised by her sudden boldness.
Arthur: Explain yourself.
Clara: After your brother and his wife died in that terrible crash two years ago, this house became a tomb. You were traveling across the country managing the business, trying to save the firm. The lawyers hired night nurses and nanny agencies, but they only cared about their paychecks.
Arthur: They were top-tier professionals...
Clara: They left him in his crib for hours! When he cried at night because of nightmares, they locked his door so they could sleep! I heard him through the walls while I was ironing linens late at night!
Arthur's chest tightened. He stepped closer to the sofa, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.
Arthur: Is this true?
Clara: I couldn't leave him alone, Mr. Sterling. Every night for two years, after my shift ended, I stayed in his nursery. I rocked him to sleep. I read him stories. I fed him his breakfast when he refused to eat. I bathed him when he was sick with fever. To him, I'm not the maid. I'm the only person who holds him when he's scared.
Arthur looked at his nephew. Leo looked up at Arthur with curious, innocent eyes, then snuggled deeper into Clara's embrace. The truth was staring Arthur right in the face. The toddler didn't care about money, mansions, or bloodlines. He knew real love.
Arthur: Why didn't you ever report the nannies to me?
Clara: I tried! I left notes on your desk! But your estate manager intercepted them and told me to mind my own business or I'd be fired and blacklisted!
Arthur: My manager said that?
Clara: Yes. And now those three women arrive, claiming they gave birth to him, demanding control of his multi-million-dollar trust fund. They don't want Leo, Mr. Sterling. They want the bank account.
Arthur paced across the room, his mind racing. He remembered the sudden push from his brother's former legal team to settle the custody case quickly. He remembered how eagerly Victoria, Camila, and Julianna had filed their claims the moment the trust fund maturity terms were leaked to the press.
Arthur: They all brought signed DNA certificates from private labs in California.
Clara: Papers can be bought, Mr. Sterling. A child's memory cannot.
Arthur stopped pacing. He stared at Clara, a cold realization washing over him. The entire legal battle had been staged. Someone inside his own organization was helping these women steal his late brother's estate.
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