I tapped the screen, expecting the court clerk’s confirmation of our emergency filing.

Instead, a large shadow fell over the snow-covered sidewalk just outside the doors.

A sleek black town car pulled up directly behind Ryker’s waiting SUV.

The back door swung open.

A tall man in a tailored charcoal coat stepped out into the freezing wind.

It was Gideon Voss, and he was holding a stack of legal documents.

The wind off the tarmac felt like needles against my face.

Lily whimpered, her small hands clutching the collar of my coat.

I held her tighter, her warmth the only shield against the Chicago chill.

Gideon Voss walked toward us, his leather shoes crunching on the salted ice.

He stopped three feet away, his expression entirely devoid of warmth.

“Ryker,” Voss said, his voice smooth and low.

“Voss,” Ryker replied.

Ryker did not shift his weight, keeping his body positioned between the lawyer and the children.

“You are holding trust property, Ryker,” Voss said, lifting the documents in his hand.

“These are my sister’s children,” Ryker said.

“They are the beneficiaries of the Mara Steel Estate Trust,” Voss corrected.