“Grant,” Vanessa said, her voice dropping to a low whisper as she typed something rapidly on her keyboard. “We need to leave. Now.”

Grant frowned, his eyes shifting from Vanessa to the stack of legal documents Margaret Voss had placed on my bedside table.

“What is it?” he demanded, his voice sharp and impatient.

“We have to go back to the office, Grant,” Vanessa repeated, her fingers gripping her leather purse so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“The board is calling an emergency session.”

Margaret Voss did not move from her position near the window.

She adjusted her glasses, her sharp eyes scanning both of them with cold detachment.

“Mr. Holloway has not finished reviewing the terms of the trust restriction,” Margaret said, her voice smooth as glass.

“He doesn’t need to,” Vanessa snapped, stepping between Grant and my bed.

“We will have our own legal team review everything by tomorrow morning.”

I watched Vanessa’s hand slide back into her pocket, her thumb nervously tapping against the side of her phone.

The image of that black and silver icon on her screen remained burned into my mind.