Henderson slowly shook his head.

“Sign it, Celeste,” Henderson muttered. “It’s the best we can do.”

Her jaw tightened so hard I could see the muscles twitching.

She grabbed the pen.

The scratch of the metal nib against the paper was the only sound in the room.

She signed her name on the dotted line with a sharp, aggressive stroke.

She stood up, tossing the pen onto the table.

“I hope she was worth it, Adrian,” Celeste said, her voice shaking. “Because you have nothing left.”

She turned and walked out of the boardroom, her heels clicking rapidly down the marble hallway.

The heavy glass door clicked shut behind her.

Richard looked at me from the head of the table.

“What now, Adrian?” he asked.

“I need to go home,” I said.

***

The drive back to Maine was long and quiet.

The rain fell in steady, gray sheets, blurring the trees along the highway.

I thought about the massive empty penthouse in Boston.

I thought about my mother’s estate, now guarded by federal agents.

The wealth that had defined me my entire life felt like a heavy, cold weight.