Incest Story -

The dinner table at the Sterling estate didn’t seat people; it seated grudges.

"Julian was a partner," Claire countered. "And according to these, he owned forty percent of Sterling Group before he 'disappeared.'" Incest Story

Arthur’s knife scraped against the china—a sharp, violent sound. He finally looked up, his eyes like flint. "Julian was a ghost, Claire. And ghosts don't have a seat at this table." The dinner table at the Sterling estate didn’t

Elias tightened his grip on his fork. He didn’t want the office. He wanted the jazz club in the basement of a brick building downtown—the one he’d been secretly funding for three years. "Actually, Father, I think Claire should take the lead. She has the background in international law." He finally looked up, his eyes like flint

Arthur Sterling, the patriarch whose name was etched onto half the skyscrapers in the city, sat at the head. To his right was Elias, the eldest son and heir apparent, who wore his father’s expectations like a suffocating wool coat. To his left was Claire, the daughter who had returned home after a five-year silence, carrying a secret that hummed beneath her skin.