“Mother,” Carter warned, his voice tightening.

“Oh, stop it, Carter,” Vivian said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“She is in no position to do anything about it.”

She looked back at me, a faint, mocking smile touching her lips.

“Yes, Evelyn, Carter signed your name while you were asleep in the recovery room.”

“And the notary?” I asked, keeping my tone empty of the anger burning inside me.

“Mr. Vance has been our family notary for twenty years,” Vivian said.

“He signs what we tell him to sign, when we tell him to sign it.”

She picked up her tea again, taking a slow sip.

“By the time you woke up, the paperwork was already in the state database.”

“You stole my company while I was fighting for my daughter’s life,” I said.

“We secured the future of the Hartwell estate,” Vivian corrected.

“June will benefit from this eventually, assuming you behave yourself.”

The door to the library opened with a soft creak.

Sloane Whitaker stepped into the room, holding a leather folder against her chest.