His eyes darted to the dark window at the end of the hall.

Outside, the Chicago snow was still pasting itself against the glass in thick, wet flakes.

“Are you sure?” Ethan whispered.

He closed his eyes for a long moment.

“That’s impossible,” he said, his voice dropping to a register that made my skin go cold.

“He wouldn’t have had the authority to touch trust matters without my father’s signature.”

I watched him closely, cradling Lauren’s head to protect her from the sudden tension.

“Ethan?” I called out softly.

He didn’t look at me.

“Get the physical file from the archives, Paul,” Ethan said into the phone.

“I don’t care if it’s sealed. Use whatever leverage we have over the clerk’s office.”

“I want the original signature page scanned and sent to my personal email in ten minutes.”

He ended the call without saying goodbye.

The silence in the hallway felt heavy, thick with the smell of floor wax and antiseptic.

Dr. Rao looked between us, sensing the shift in the air.

“I have to get back to the ICU,” she said quietly.