The heavy double doors of the elevator chimed, sliding open to reveal the lobby.

Margaret Crane stepped out, her black trench coat damp from the rain outside.

She held a thick manila envelope in her gloved hand, her leather briefcase hanging from her shoulder.

Behind her stood two men in gray uniforms with security badges pinned to their lapels.

Nathan stiffened, his entire body locking up as Margaret approached.

“Margaret,” Nathan said, his voice turning cold. “This is private family business. You have no right to bring security into our home.”

“It is not your home, Nathan,” Margaret said, her boots clicking rhythmically against the stone floor.

She walked straight past him, not even giving him a glance, and stood beside me.

She placed a hand gently on my shoulder, her fingers warm and solid.

“Are you alright, Deidre?” she asked quietly.

“I am now,” I said.

Margaret turned to face Arthur and the board members.

“Arthur, I am glad you are here,” Margaret said, pulling a stack of stamped documents from her envelope. “It saves us the trouble of delivering these to your office tonight.”