“Thomas Mitchell will not inherit control of Mitchell
Shipping.”
The room stopped breathing.
For one suspended second, nobody moved inside the mahogany-paneled boardroom overlooking the city skyline.
Then Thomas shot to his feet so violently his chair slammed backward against the polished floor.
“What?”
The word came out cracked.
Disbelieving.
Almost childlike.
Across the table, his younger girlfriend stared at him with widening eyes while the elderly lawyer calmly adjusted the legal papers in front of him like he hadn’t just detonated a billionaire family.
But the coldest person in the room sat perfectly still. Mrs. Eleanor Mitchell.
300x200x130 mm…
Black mourning dress.
Pearls.
Lace gloves.
A white handkerchief folded neatly in her lap.
She didn’t flinch.
Didn’t blink.
Copy
Didn
Look Up
his life collapsed in real time.
> neath
Thomas looked at her desperately.
“Mother… what decision?”
The lawyer answered instead.
“Your father left final authority regarding succession to Mrs. Eleanor Mitchell under the moral clause established in the amended trust.”
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