Marcus closed the door.
Eleanor stayed outside, watching through the glass.
For a moment, neither brother spoke.
Below them, Celeste stood beside the aircraft with both children close to her body. Ava had stopped crying. Noah held his mother’s finger like it was a rope over deep water.
Marcus looked down at them.
Then back at Julian.
“You used my children,” Marcus said.
Julian flinched, but only slightly. “I tried to keep you off the plane.”
“By putting a racist pilot in front of them?”
Julian’s jaw tightened. “Rick was predictable.”
Marcus took one step closer. “So are fires. You don’t light one in a nursery.”
Julian looked away.
That told Marcus something.
Not enough. But something.
“What is this?” Marcus asked. “Blackmail? Revenge? Another contract scheme?”
Julian laughed under his breath. “You always think money is the disease.”
“With you, it usually is.”
Julian stood.
“No,” he said. “With me, money was the symptom.”
Marcus stared at him.
Julian’s eyes had gone wet, which angered Marcus more than shouting would have. He had seen Julian cry before. At the right time. In front of the right people. Tears had always been one of his tools.
“I don’t want a performance,” Marcus said.
Julian reached into his jacket.
Security raised their hands.
“Slowly,” one warned.
Julian removed a thin envelope and placed it on the desk.
Marcus did not touch it.
“What is that?”
“The reason Dad left you the company.”
Marcus’s face went still.
Their father, Everett Ellison, had built Apex Meridian from one leased turboprop and a handshake reputation. A Black mechanic from Oakland who learned engines by listening to them. A man who wore coveralls into board meetings and made millionaires wait while he checked tire pressure himself.
Everett had died fourteen years ago.
Heart attack, everyone said.
Too much stress, everyone said.
A life spent fighting rooms that never wanted him there.
Marcus had inherited control. Julian had inherited money and resentment.
Marcus looked at the envelope.
“You have ten seconds,” he said.
Julian swallowed. “Dad didn’t die of a heart attack.”
The room tilted.
Below, a wrench clanged on concrete.
Marcus heard it as if underwater.
“What did you say?”
Julian’s voice broke. “He died because someone tampered with his medication before the Zurich flight. He found out people inside the company were laundering money through maintenance vendors. He was going to go federal.”
Marcus could not breathe properly.
Julian pushed the envelope forward. “I found the old files after Mom died. I thought it was just fraud. Then I saw the medical report Dad paid for privately. The prescriptions. The emails.”
Marcus whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Julian’s face twisted. “Because my name was on one of the vendor accounts.”
There it was.