As she walked past the gallery, she did not look at her father-in-law.

She did not look at me.

Grandfather Bradford let out a long, slow sigh.

“It is over,” he murmured.

“The name is ruined, Clara.”

“The name can be rebuilt,” I said.

“But the foundation must be clean.”

He turned his head to look at me, his old eyes searching my face.

“You have the boys,” he said.

“They are the only Bradfords left who matter.”

“They are Vances,” I corrected him gently.

“But they will have what belongs to them.”

The next morning, the board of directors met at the downtown Chicago headquarters.

The long table was filled with men and women who had spent decades serving the Bradford family.

They looked anxious, their eyes darting to the empty chair at the head of the table.

I walked in and took that chair.

Marcus sat to my right, his laptop open.

“Good morning,” I said.

The room went instantly quiet.

“The merger between Vance Marketing and the Bradford Group is now complete,” I said.

“The new entity will be known as Vance Global.”