The subject line was simple: *Project legacy confirmation.*

The email from the Vaughn representative read: *The arrangement is finalized. Mrs. Whitmore has approved the terms.*

Mrs. Whitmore.

My mother, Eleanor.

I leaned back in my leather chair, the leather creaking in the quiet room.

My mother had bypassed me entirely.

She had worked with the Vaughn family to secure my medical records and falsify them.

And Celeste’s family had been involved long before Celeste and I ever met.

A knock on the door made me jump.

I closed the laptop screen halfway.

“Adrian?” Celeste’s voice came through the thick wood.

“Your mother is on the phone again.”

“She says it is urgent.”

I stood up and walked to the door, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I unlocked the door and opened it.

Celeste stood there, holding her cell phone out to me.

The screen showed Eleanor’s name.

“She says she needs to speak with you about the foundation trustees,” Celeste said.

She was looking past my shoulder at the dark screen of my laptop.

I took the phone from her hand.