“Your son is about to learn exactly who his father is,” Brenda said.

She slid a single sheet of thick paper across the mahogany desk.

It was the formal default authorization form.

My signature on this page would dismantle Douglas Kingsley and his whole facade of wealth.

I picked up a brass pen from Brenda’s desk set.

“Douglas will fight this,” Brenda said.

“He’ll use Brandon as a shield to protect his company.”

“He can certainly try,” I said.