Helen leaned closer to the glass, her eyes narrowing.

“Are you sure about that, Emma?” she whispered. “Who do you think set up the original holding company twenty years ago?”

The words hung in the damp air between us.

Before I could answer, my phone buzzed again in my hand.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

I looked down, the blue light of the screen illuminating my face.

The message was a PDF file.

I tapped it open, my eyes falling on an older document, dated fifteen years ago.

It was a land transfer agreement for the property Whitaker House sat on, signed by my father.

And next to his signature was a clause authorizing the transfer of all remaining assets to the Caldwell holding company in the event of a dissolution.

I stared at the paper, my breath catching in my throat as the foundation of everything I believed began to shift.

“We are waiting inside, Emma,” Helen said, gesturing toward the gate, which was now slowly swinging open.

“Arthur is already at the table.”