“I’m their father,” Ethan said, his hand tightening into a fist at his side.

“You’re a man who signed a fourteen-dollar postal receipt eight years ago and shoved it in a desk drawer,” I said.

“If you want to be in their lives, you start from zero, on my terms.”

Behind us, Richard folded the court printouts along their original creases with a slow, deliberate press of his thumb.

“Grace is right,” Richard called across the quiet library.

“Your authority over the Caldwell family estate management is suspended as of tonight, Ethan, pending a full legal review of your statements.”