I looked out the office window at the pedestrians below. For years my parents had explained that Sydney received more because she was more social, more ambitious, better suited for opportunity.

She had not received more because she deserved it. She had received what they took from me.

Arthur Vance requested a meeting at a coffee shop. Elias advised me not to attend alone, and I agreed only after my parents confirmed in writing that the meeting concerned settlement.

A private investigator employed by Elias sat two tables away as a lawful witness.

My parents arrived wearing the polished expressions they used at formal dinners whenever they wanted to pretend conflict did not exist. Mom sat across from me.

Dad stood for several moments, trying to establish authority through his height. It no longer affected me.