There was another document waiting.

I looked at the screen of his phone as it lit up in his hand.

Preston’s thumb hovered over the screen, his knuckles white against the black casing of his phone.

“Go ahead,” I said, my voice steady.

Mia let out a small, jagged breath behind me, her fingers digging into the fabric of my blazer.

I reached into the leather folder and pulled out the thick, cream-colored document.

It bore the embossed gold seal of the Vance Family Trust, established thirty years ago by my late grandfather.

“You always forgot one very important detail, Preston,” I said.

I laid the heavy parchment on the mahogany desk between us.

“My grandfather didn’t trust outsiders, especially men who married into his family.”

Preston glanced down at the paper, his brow furrowing as he tried to read the elegant cursive script at the top.

“What is this?” he muttered, his thumb slipping off the screen of his phone.

“It is the Vance Educational Endowment,” I said, pointing to the bolded clause near the center of the page.