I heard Sloane’s sharp, frantic whisper.

“Nathan, she is on the phone with her lawyer,” she said.

“If they freeze the corporate account, the vendors will pull out by noon.”

“We will be ruined before the project even launches.”

Nathan’s voice was lower now, laced with a desperate urgency.

“Catherine, let us talk about this like rational adults,” he called out.

“There is no need to involve the board.”

“This is a family matter.”

“We can resolve this between us.”

I did not believe a single word.

For months, he had been quietly shifting assets, preparing to leave me with nothing while taking the home my grandfather built.

He wanted this penthouse for Sloane.

He wanted my daughter’s inheritance to fund their new life together.

I tapped my screen, switching the call with Margaret to a three-way conference line.

I dialed the direct office number for Arthur Sterling, the chairman of the Crane family trust board.

Arthur had been my father’s closest friend.

He knew every inch of this building, and he knew the value of the legacy Nathan was trying to dismantle.