Margaret did not look at her son.

Her cold blue eyes were fixed on me, analyzing my face, my clothes, and the sleeping baby.

“Sit down, Adrian,” Margaret said.

Her voice was quiet, but it had the weight of iron.

Adrian hesitated, his jaw tightening, before he pulled out a chair and sat.

He glared at Grace across the polished mahogany.

“We have reviewed your preliminary filing,” Margaret said, addressing Grace.

“Then you know the trust is clear,” Grace said. “Lily is Adrian’s biological daughter. Under the terms of the 1984 Whitmore Family Covenant, she is the sole recognized heir to the primary estate.”

Adrian let out a harsh, dry laugh.

“That covenant can be amended,” Adrian said. “We have already drafted the revisions to exclude her.”

Grace smiled, a slow, dangerous expression that made my stomach tighten.

She opened her briefcase and pulled out a thick, stapled document.

“You mean these revisions, Adrian?” Grace asked.

She slid the papers across the table.

They slid smoothly over the wood and stopped directly in front of Margaret.

Margaret picked them up, her reading glasses sliding onto the bridge of her nose.