“Step aside, Garrett,” Arthur said.

The attorney did not raise his voice, but the authority in it was absolute.

Vivian crossed her arms, her large diamond rings catching the dim, flickering light from the hallway sconces.

“Let them go to the library, Garrett,” she sneered. “We will settle this trashy display away from the guests.”

I ignored her, guiding the triplets through the heavy double doors of the pavilion.

The boys walked close to me, their sneakers squeaking on the polished hardwood of the main hallway.

The air inside the mansion was cool and smelled of beeswax, lemon polish, and old wood.

We passed under gold-leaf portraits of ancestors who all shared the same prominent jawline.

Leo looked up at one of the paintings, then looked at his brother Owen.

“That man looks like you, Owen,” Leo whispered.

“Hush, sweetie,” I said softly, brushing a stray curl from his forehead.

We reached the library, a massive room with floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves and a large stone fireplace.

A fire crackled in the hearth, throwing long, dancing shadows across the leather armchairs and the heavy velvet drapes.