“You don’t have an original birth certificate, Serena,” Patrick said softly.

“You never have.”

“Martha Higgins said there was a record from 2000.”

Patrick put his glass down so hard that water splashed over the rim.

“Martha Higgins is a retired records clerk who doesn’t understand modern legal filings,” he said.

He pushed the silver pen across the table until its point touched the edge of the page.

“Sign it, Serena.

The money will be in your personal checking account before four this afternoon.”