My Rich Parents Forced My Adopted Daughter To Wash Dishes On Christmas—Until A Paternity Test Proved She Was My Late Brother’s Only Heir!

Leaving the police to arrest Hector’s hired goons, I hailed a yellow cab and arrived at the polished glass towers of Vance & Sterling with twenty minutes to spare.

Arthur Vance was an imposing man in his late sixties, with a mane of silver hair and sharp, hawkish blue eyes. When he saw Renata, his stern demeanor melted instantly. He knelt down on his expensive wool carpet and offered her a tin of gourmet chocolate cookies.

""You look just like your father, young lady,"" Vance murmured softly.

Renata took a cookie, smiling politely. ""Thank you, sir. Daddy says my other daddy is in heaven.""

""He is, my dear. But he left you the keys to the castle."" Vance stood up, nodding to his associate. ""Bring the vault box.""

Within minutes, a heavy steel lockbox was placed on the conference table. Vance turned the dual keys and lifted the lid, revealing a treasure trove of documents: Elena's handwritten journal detailing Julian’s final weeks, photographic evidence of Julian holding newborn Renata in an undisclosed clinic, a certified copy of the original birth certificate naming Julian DeLuca as the father, and a flash drive containing forensic audits of Hector’s offshore accounts.

""This is the smoking gun,"" Vance said, tapping the drive. ""Julian had an independent auditor trace fifty million dollars moved out of the company trust into an account in the Cayman Islands under Hector's personal shell company. Julian confronted Hector on December 23rd. On December 24th, Julian’s car crashed. On December 25th, Hector filed for emergency administrative control of the trust.""

""And the mechanic?"" I asked, my voice trembling with suppressed fury.

""We tracked down the former mechanic who worked on Julian’s sports car,"" Vance revealed. ""He fled to Florida three years ago after receiving an anonymous wire transfer of two hundred thousand dollars. When federal agents showed up at his door yesterday—prompted by our sealed subpoena—he cracked. He signed a full confession. Hector’s head of security paid him to cut the hydraulic brake lines.""

Tears pricked my eyes. It was one thing to suspect your father was a monster; it was another to hold the signed confession of your brother’s execution in your hands. Julian was murdered for money. And for four years, my mother, my father, and my sister had celebrated holidays, drank vintage champagne, and bought luxury jewelry while Julian’s baby ate scraps and washed their dishes.

""What time is the board meeting?"" I asked, looking up at the wall clock.

""Thirty minutes,"" Vance replied, adjusting his tie. ""The board is convening on the fiftieth floor of the DeLuca Tower. Hector believes you are either stranded upstate or neutralized by his drivers. He thinks he has already won.""

""Does the trust allow me, as Renata’s legal guardian, to represent her shares immediately upon presenting these proofs?""

""Under Article 4, Section B: The legal custodian of the primary heir holds full voting rights at any formal assembly of the board upon presentation of verified DNA authentication,"" Vance smiled, a cold, predatory expression. ""You don't just have a vote, Mauricio. You have fifty-five percent of the voting power. You own the company.""

I looked at Renata, who was happily coloring a drawing of a reindeer with Vance’s administrative assistant.

""Renata,"" I said gently.

""Yes, Daddy?""

""Do you want to go meet Grandpa and Grandma one last time?""