The metal felt cold against my palm.

I stepped forward and placed it on the dark mahogany desk between us.

“This contains the medical records from the private facility in Switzerland,” I said.

My voice was steady, trained by years of naval command.

“It also contains the financial ledger of the Carter family trust.”

King Alaric did not touch the drive immediately.

He kept his gray eyes fixed on me, measuring my posture.

“And what do these records prove, Commander Carter?” the King asked.

“They prove that our mother, Margaret Carter, is alive,” I said.

Rachel let out a sharp, ragged gasp.

She pressed the lace handkerchief to her mouth, her shoulders shaking.

“She did not die of illness ten years ago,” I continued.

“She was committed to a secure psychiatric clinic under an assumed name.”

“Whose name?” Prince Alexander asked.

His voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the room.

“An administrative alias created by the trustees of the Carter estate,” I said.

I looked directly at Rachel.

“With the signature of my sister, Rachel Carter, acting as the sole executor.”