“I’m the executor of her living trust.”

Chandler went silent.

Inside the dark, Adaira could have wept for joy. The trust. Two years ago, when she’d first found the strange entries in the firm’s books, she had quietly redrafted her entire estate — and told no one alive but Rosamund.

When Chandler stalked out to the corridor to take a furious call, Rosamund leaned close to Adaira’s ear.

“If you’re in there, hold on,” she murmured.

“Sam told me about your hand.