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My laptop took an eternity to boot. The flash drive contained encrypted files, but Father had taught me his password system years ago. Inside were dozens of video files, all dated over the past six months. I clicked on the first one, and Father’s face filled the screen. He looked older and more tired than I remembered, recorded in this very study. The sight of him, so present and yet gone, was a physical blow.

“Sloane,” he said, his voice rough with the illness he had hidden from me. “If you are watching this, then you have started asking the right questions.”

The flash drive contained hours of footage, but I only needed thirty minutes to understand the scope of Father’s plan. He had hired Rhys six months before his death and paid him an astronomical sum to study our family history, company operations, and my personality. The goal was not to steal my inheritance but to test whether I could fight for it.

“You are brilliant, Sloane,” Father said in one video, “but you have never had to struggle. Every door opened because of my name. I need to know you can hold this empire when someone tries to take it from you.”

The revelation should have softened my anger, but it only redirected it. Father had manipulated both of us, turning my grief into a performance. Rhys had accepted money to deceive me, probably laughing about it during those board meetings. I called him at midnight from the study. He answered on the second ring, his voice alert despite the hour.

“We need to talk,” I said. “Father’s study. Now.”

“Sloane, it’s late…”

“I know who you are. I know what you are. You have thirty minutes.”

He arrived in twenty-five, still wearing his suit but with his tie missing and his shirt collar open. The vulnerability in his appearance almost made me hesitate.

“I found Father’s videos,” I said without preamble. “The flash drive in his desk. I know about the contract, the money, all of it.”

Rhys’s composure cracked completely. He sat heavily in the chair across from Father’s desk, running both hands through his hair. “I was wondering when you would find those.”

“Were you? Or were you hoping I would never figure it out?”

“Honestly?” He looked up, meeting my eyes. “I was hoping you would find them weeks ago. This whole thing has been…” He gestured helplessly. “Your father was specific about the terms. I was not allowed to tell you directly because you had to discover it yourself.”

“And if I never had?”

“Then at the six-month mark, I was supposed to confess everything and walk away. You would inherit by default.”

I processed this, pacing the length of the study. Father’s presence felt heavy in the room, as if he were watching us navigate his maze. “So this is a game. Six months to prove I am worthy.”

“It is more involved than that.” Rhys pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket. It was worn from handling. “Your father gave me this after I signed the contract. I was not supposed to show you unless absolutely necessary.”

The letter inside was in Father’s angular handwriting, addressed to both of us. He explained that the will contained multiple conditional clauses. If I exposed Rhys within six months, I would inherit everything. If I failed or gave up, the company would be sold and the proceeds donated to charity. Neither of us would see a penny.

“But there is a third option,” Rhys said quietly. “If we work together and solve the puzzles he left, we can prove we can run the company as partners. We would split everything fifty-fifty.”

“Partners.” The word tasted strange. “With the man who has been lying to me for weeks.”

“I know how this looks. But I have been honest about everything else. The strategies I proposed in meetings, the decisions I made, those were real. I may not be your brother, but I am good at this work.”

I studied him, trying to separate the performance from the man. “Why did you take this job? For the money?”

“At first, yes. Your father offered me more than I would make in ten years of my previous work.” He had the grace to look embarrassed. “But after I started studying the company and learning about you, it became something else. This place is remarkable, Sloane. What you and your father built matters.”

“Then help me win it back.” The words emerged before I had fully decided, but once spoken, they felt right. “We play by his rules, solve his puzzles, but on our terms. When this is over, you get your payout and I get my company.”

“And if we fail?”

“We do not.” I extended my hand across the desk. “Deal?”

He took it, his grip warm and firm. “Deal.”