“Just a few signatures, Shelby,” he said gently.

“Then you can let the lawyers handle the rest of the stress.”

“You need to rest.”

I looked at the thick stack of papers.

The title on the first page read *Irrevocable Trust and Transfer of Shareholder Rights*.

“An irrevocable trust,” I murmured.

“It keeps everything safe,” Jared said.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees.

He smelled of cedarwood and dry-cleaned wool.

“If your health fluctuates, the shares are protected from probate and public scrutiny.”

“And from me?” I asked, looking him in the eyes.

Jared laughed softly, a sound meant to dismiss my anxiety.

“Of course not, darling.”

“You are the beneficiary.”

“But the voting rights go to the trustee.”

“Which would be you,” I said.

“Naturally,” he replied.

“I run the day-to-day operations anyway.”

“This just formalizes it so the board doesn’t panic if you have another… episode.”

The word *episode* hung in the cold air of the room.

He was referencing my collapse, the one he had likely engineered.

I reached out and touched the cool cover of the folder.