“I don’t feel like I did.”
“That’s common.”
“I feel like I handed everyone a box of snakes.”
Priya smiled sadly. “Maybe. But now you’re not holding it alone.”
I turned my face toward the window. There was no view, only the reflection of my bruised face in dark glass.
I barely recognized myself.
But beneath the swelling and exhaustion, I saw something I had not seen in years.
Not strength exactly.
Not yet.
But the outline of someone returning.
A soft knock sounded.
Michael stepped back in, holding a hospital phone.
“It’s Daniel,” he said.
I tried to sit up too quickly and gasped. Pain flashed white through my side.
Michael was beside me instantly. “Slow.”
“Give me the phone.”
He hesitated only long enough to make sure I could hold it.
“Daniel?” I whispered.
For a moment, all I heard was static.
Then a man’s voice, low and strained.
“Emma. Thank God.”
Relief nearly folded me in half. “Where are you?”
“I can’t stay on long.”
“Daniel, what happened?”
“I made a mistake,” he said.
The fear in his voice frightened me more than if he had shouted.
Daniel Reeves did not frighten easily. He was the sort of man who ironed his pocket squares and corrected judges with polite footnotes.
“What mistake?” I asked.
“I trusted the wrong courier.”
Michael leaned closer, listening.
Daniel continued, “The original trust amendment packet—the one your father signed before his final surgery—someone requested a certified copy using my credentials.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“I didn’t authorize it.”
“Who has it?”
“I don’t know. But Emma, listen to me carefully. That packet includes more than the voting control documents.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
