Grant frowned, his posture stiffening immediately. “Margaret. This is a private family matter. You have no business here.”

“I represent the Holloway Family Trust,” Margaret said, her voice echoing in the small room. “And I have every business here.”

Vanessa shifted on her high heels, her eyes narrowing at the older woman. “The trust doesn’t govern Grant’s personal divorce proceedings.”

“Actually, Vanessa, it does,” Margaret replied.

She walked to the left side of my bed and gently placed her hand over my cold fingers, moving Grant’s pen aside.

“Your grandfather, Arthur Holloway, anticipated this exact scenario,” Margaret said, looking directly at Grant.

“What are you talking about?” Grant asked, his voice dropping an octave.

“Clause Fourteen of the master trust agreement,” Margaret said, her voice steady and clear. “It is a protective covenant.”

She opened her briefcase and pulled out a document bound in dark blue paper.

“In the event that any male heir initiates a unilateral divorce against his spouse within thirty days of the birth of a direct descendant, he is deemed unfit to manage the family assets.”

The room went completely silent.

Only the steady, rhythmic beep of my heart monitor broke the quiet.

“That is absurd,” Grant sneered. “My grandfather would never write such a clause into the charter.”

“He did,” Margaret said. “He wanted to ensure the mothers of his grandchildren were never discarded like old stock. By serving Chloe with these divorce papers today, you have triggered the immediate transfer of the majority voting shares of the Holloway Empire.”

“To whom?” Vanessa demanded, her grip tightening on her tablet.

“To Chloe,” Margaret said.

I stared at the old attorney, my mind spinning.

My chest tightened, a different kind of pain blooming in my chest.

Grant’s face drained of all color.

“She doesn’t know how to run a conglomerate,” he hissed. “She was a schoolteacher.”