Dorian smiled, but it didn’t reach his cold eyes.

“Restrictions can be worked around, Maren,” he said. “There are always ways to adjust the terms.”

I noticed a large roll of blueprint paper sitting on the dining table behind him.

Next to the blueprints lay a bright orange plastic transit level and a set of metal surveying stakes.

“What are those for?” I asked, pointing toward the table.

My mother quickly stepped in front of the table, trying to block my view.

“It’s nothing, dear,” she said. “Just some utility assessments.”

“You’re surveying the property lines,” I said, realization hitting me.

“The county line is very vague up here,” Dorian said, his tone casual. “We’re just clarifying things.”

“You’re trying to redraw the boundaries to bypass the deed restrictions,” I said.

“You don’t know anything about real estate, Maren,” Dorian said. “Go back to your base.”

“I have forty-eight hours before the trust lock becomes permanent,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“We have a meeting with the surveyor and the buyer’s representative in the morning,” Dorian said, his eyes narrowing. “The papers are already drawn up.”