THEY PINNED ME TO THE FLOOR AT MY OWN FATHER’S GALA — BUT MY WICKED STEPSISTER DIDN’T KNOW WHO WAS ABOUT TO WALK THROUGH THOSE DOORS

General Arthur Pendelton was buried with full, magnificent military honors.

The funeral was attended by hundreds of veterans, high-ranking officers, and the thousands of lives he had touched through the foundation.

I stood at the front of the pristine green cemetery, wearing a sharp, tailored black coat. As the honor guard fired the twenty-one-gun salute, the crack of the rifles echoing across the silent hills, I did not flinch.

I accepted the folded American flag from the commanding officer, holding the heavy cotton against my chest.

When the crowds finally dispersed, I stood alone before his grave, right next to the beautiful marble headstone of my father.

I was twenty-six years old. I had no parents. I had no family left.

I was entirely alone.

But as I looked at the two graves of the men who had loved me, protected me, and taught me everything I knew, I realized I was not lonely.

I was the absolute, undisputed head of the Sterling empire. The mantle of leadership had been permanently transferred to my shoulders, and I was fully prepared to carry its weight.