“You were grieving. You trusted us to handle the details.”

Daniel’s face drained of color.

He looked down at his own hands, as if realizing they were covered in ink he had never meant to spill.

“You used my grief,” Daniel said.

“We protected your children,” Sterling insisted.

The lawyer looked toward the cot where the twins lay.

Owen’s small hand was tucked under his cheek, his breathing slow and even.

“If this woman stays, the custody agreement is voided, and the estate’s trust funds will be locked in litigation for years,” Sterling said.

“Let them lock it,” Daniel said.

Sterling blinked, clearly taken aback.

“Mr. Whitmore, we are talking about hundreds of millions of dollars.”

“I don’t care about the money, Julian. I care about my sons. And I care about the truth.”

Daniel took a step toward the door, forcing Sterling to take a step back into the hallway.

“I want the complete file,” Daniel said.

“This is the complete file,” Sterling said, gesturing to the folder in his hand.

“No, it isn’t,” Daniel said.

“This is the summary your office prepared. I want the original correspondence.”