“She is your granddaughter, Richard,” I said, my voice shaking.

Richard did not even turn his head to look at me.

“She is an administrative error,” Richard said.

Nathan’s hand remained in his pocket.

He stared at his father, his eyes hard and empty of any emotion.

“Tell me exactly how you managed it,” Nathan said.

“Tell me how you bought off the clinic in Albany.”

“Tell me how you changed the birth records.”

Richard let out a short, dry laugh.

“It was remarkably simple,” Richard said.

“A few large donations to the hospital’s new wing.”

“A quiet conversation with the chief of pediatric medicine.”

“And Hayes handled the rest of the paperwork.”

Mr. Hayes shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking down at his polished shoes.

“You hid my own daughter from me,” Nathan said.

“To save you from making a catastrophic mistake,” Richard replied.

“To save this family’s legacy.”

“You were always too emotional, Nathan.”

“But you can fix that right now.”

“Sign the paper, and the Whitmore Group is yours.”

Nathan slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket.