Now, standing in the cold dampness of the hidden room, the smell of dust and ozone filled my nose.

The card in my hand was the only reason we had made it this far.

“Put the lighter down, Father,” Nathan said again, his voice dropping an octave.

Richard’s eyes flicked from Nathan to me, then down to the black card in my hand.

A bitter, terrible smile touched the corners of his mouth.

“Hayes,” Richard spat, his thumb tensing on the lighter’s metal wheel. “I should have known. The weak always band together.”

“This isn’t about Hayes,” Nathan said, taking another slow, deliberate step. “It’s about Lily. It’s about my daughter.”

“She is a distraction,” Richard said coldly. “A threat to everything we built. The company cannot be divided, Nathan. Not for a child.”

“She is a Whitmore,” Nathan said.

His voice was like iron.

“She is the rightful heir to the primary trust,” I said, stepping up beside Nathan. “And you know it.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me.

The flame of the lighter flickered, centimeters away from the dry, yellowed edges of the ledger.