And the sole trustee at the center of it, the single signature on which the whole structure turned, was not Camden Ravenel.

It was me.

I reached for the phone on the bedside table.

Tamsin — the most ruthless family lawyer in New York, and a woman I had chosen years ago precisely for that quality — answered bright and warm.

“Greer!

Congratulations!

Boy or girl?”

“Tamsin.” My voice came out flat and dead and level.