“He gave me an ultimatum,” Jonathan said, his voice flat.

He walked over to the small cast-iron stove in the corner of my studio, reaching out his hands to catch the rising heat.

“What kind of ultimatum?” I asked, closing the door behind him.

“He wants me to drop the divorce filing against Rebecca,” Jonathan said, keeping his eyes on the metal stove.

“And what about us?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “What about Liam and Chloe?”

Jonathan turned to look at me, his expression filled with a quiet exhaustion.

“He told me to ignore you,” Jonathan said. “He said the twins do not exist as far as the family legacy is concerned.”

I felt a cold sensation in the pit of my stomach, worse than the winter wind outside.

“And if you don’t?” I asked.

“He will convene the board at nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” Jonathan said. “They will vote to remove me as chairman and chief executive.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver key ring, staring at it as if he didn’t recognize it.