You don’t have the background to oversee eight-figure corporate holdings.”

The maid carefully set a silver bowl of roasted rosemary pine nuts on the sideboard and backed away toward the kitchen door.

“I have the legal right to know where my daughter’s trust money is going,” I said.

Cole leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto mine across the table.

“If you keep throwing around wild accusations, Mara, we’ll have to take steps for Maisie’s sake.”

“What sort of steps?” I asked.