He Married Me to Steal My Family’s Shipyard. My Brother Spent Fifteen Years in a Wheelchair Waiting to Prove It

A pause.

Then Sabine, softer: “And the baby?”

“Our child inherits all of it,” Callum said.

“Everything that was hers.”

There it was, the whole design, spoken aloud.

My sister had not merely known about the plan to kill me.

She was carrying the child who was meant to replace me — to inherit my family’s name and my grandfather’s docks and the life that had been stolen from my parents and was about to be stolen from me.

The power of attorney I had supposedly signed was a forgery; I had signed no such thing.