“She was asking for your medical records,” my father said. “Specifically, the psychiatric evaluation notes from your admission for exhaustion last year.”

My stomach dropped.

“I was dehydrated, Dad,” I said. “It wasn’t a psychiatric hold.”

“To a judge, or to the media, a clever lawyer can twist anything,” my father warned.

“They are going to try to prove I’m unfit,” I said, the realization hitting me like a physical blow.

“Yes,” he said. “They need to invalidate the prenuptial agreement, and they need to gain leverage over the trust.”

I looked over at the crib where Maisie was sleeping peacefully.

She was so small, so completely dependent on me.

I felt a sudden, fierce wave of protectiveness wash over me.

“I want to see the audit of the Delaware firm again,” I said, turning back to the screen.

“Why?” my father asked.

“Because if Nolan forged my name on a ten-million-dollar document, he didn’t do it alone,” I said. “Sloane Barrett is his operations director, but she’s also his notary.”

“You think she’ll break?”