The doorknob began to rattle violently.

“Catherine!” Nathan’s voice boomed from the other side of the door.

“Open this door right now!”

I stood in the center of the room, my hands shielding my stomach.

The storm outside raged, and the wind shook the glass.

I looked at the door as the wood began to groan under his weight.

The wood groaned again as Nathan threw his shoulder against the master bedroom door.

“Catherine, open this lock right now,” he demanded, his voice muffled but heavy with rage.

I did not answer him.

I pressed my back against the far wall, my hand resting flat over my pregnant stomach.

The rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, leaving long, distorted streaks across the view of the city below.

On the screen of my phone, Margaret’s call was still active.

“I hear him, Catherine,” Margaret said, her voice steady and quiet through the speaker.

“I am already speaking with the head of the trust’s financial oversight committee,” she continued.

“The wire transfer is flagged.”

“They cannot move a single dollar of that half-million without my co-signature as the trust’s primary legal custodian.”