Chapter 7 - The Inheritance of Ice
A sleek black armored limousine pulled away from the curb of the Grand Sovereign Hotel, cutting through the dark, rain-soaked streets of Manhattan.
Inside the quiet, leather-lined cabin, Toby sat across from Arthur Sterling. The billionaire had removed his dirty brown coat, revealing a pristine white dress shirt concealed beneath. A medical team member in the front seat handed Arthur an antiseptic wipe, which he used to clean the dark red bruising on his cheek—revealing it to be sophisticated theatrical makeup rather than an injury.
"It was a test," Toby realized aloud, his mind racing. "The dirt, the limp, the bruised face..."
"It was an audit," Arthur corrected, sipping a glass of mineral water. "Sovereign Holdings controls fourteen billion dollars in assets, Toby. We build hospitals, fund orphanages, and operate luxury properties across three continents. But over the last five years, a virus has infected my executive board—greed, apathy, and moral rot."
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"Why me?" Toby asked. "I'm just a sixteen-year-old bellhop who started two weeks ago."
"Because you were the only person in three different luxury properties this week who treated a dying man like a human being," Arthur said, his blue eyes locking onto the boy. "And because your real name isn't Toby Smith. Your real name is Tobias Vance. You are Julian Vance's nephew."
