“There,” Ethan said, sliding the papers back to the clerk. “It is done.”

The clerk stamped the documents with a heavy, metallic click.

The legal counsel for the hospital, a tall man named Mr. Vance, stepped into the lobby.

He carried a leather portfolio under his arm and looked at Ethan with a mixture of pity and respect.

“Dr. Harrison, your father’s legal team has already contacted the board,” Mr. Vance said.

“They are offering a massive settlement to keep the arrest and the kidnapping charges out of the press.”

“I am not interested,” Ethan said.

“The offer requires your signature on a non-disclosure agreement regarding the family trust,” Mr. Vance continued, opening his portfolio.

“They are willing to clear your personal accounts and guarantee your share of the four-billion-dollar estate.”

I stood beside Ethan, my hand resting on his arm, feeling the tight coil of tension in his muscles.

“It is a lot of money, Ethan,” I said softly.

“It is poison, Hannah,” he said, turning to look into my eyes.

“It bought my mother’s silence, my father’s crimes, and the years we lost.”