Miles's eyes widened the moment he heard the man's words.
"I was your family's personal lawyer seventeen years ago."
The weight of those years crashed into him like a wave. His throat felt dry.
"Please," Miles said, voice low, motioning to the chair across from his desk. "Have a seat."
The man nodded politely, lowering himself into the chair with slow, exhausted movements. His clothes still smelled faintly of dampness and alley smoke, but beneath the weariness, his posture carried the echo of someone who had once sat in courtrooms, not gutters.
Miles observed him carefully. If this man truly once held such a respected position with the Sterling family… what had reduced him to this state? It was impossible not to wonder. The thought struck deep—this wasn't just about a visitor. This was another link to the father he had barely known, the family legacy so many had tried to erase.
The man—Cedric Knoll—met Miles's gaze with tired, weathered eyes.
