“Do you honestly believe that?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.

A set of double doors at the end of the hallway swung open.

Cassandra walked out, accompanied by a tall man in a tailored grey suit.

The man was holding a leather briefcase and speaking into a Bluetooth earpiece.

Cassandra saw me, and her expression instantly hardened.

She walked toward us, her heels clicking sharply on the hard floor.

“What is she doing here, Ethan?” Cassandra asked, ignoring me entirely.

“I called her,” Ethan said, stepping between us.

“We don’t need additional complications right now,” Cassandra said, her voice icy and controlled.

“Cassandra, how is your father?” I asked, stepping around my brother.

She looked at me then, her green eyes cold and calculating.

“He is in stable condition,” she said. “No thanks to the stress your little investigation has caused him.”

“My investigation didn’t put him in this bed,” I said. “The people who used his name did.”

The man in the grey suit stepped forward.

“Miss Mercer,” he said, his voice smooth and professional. “I am Richard Vance, representing the Whitaker family estate. I suggest you leave.”