“The furniture restorer,” he said, as if trying to force the words to make sense.

“You’re a Rose,” he said, staring at me. “Your middle name is Rose.”

“My mother’s maiden name was Rose,” I said quietly.

“You told me your family was from upstate,” Nolan said, his voice shaking slightly.

“They are,” my father said, turning his gaze to Nolan for the first time.

“We own seventy thousand acres of it,” my father said.

Nolan’s hand began to tremble, the paper rustling in his grip.

He looked at the attorneys, then back to my father, his chest rising and falling quickly.

The arrogant posture he had held for the last two years seemed to deflate all at once.

“There’s been a misunderstanding,” Nolan said, his voice cracking.

“Evelyn has been under a lot of stress,” he added, looking at the lead administrator who had just appeared in the doorway. “We were just discussing the baby’s care.”

“You were trying to take my daughter,” I said.

Sarah Sterling stepped closer to Nolan, her pen already poised over a legal notepad.