“I’m only lending a hand during a hard transition, Cassie,” he answered smoothly.

“By digging through her private storage while her friends are in the next room?” I challenged, folding my arms.

“Your mother hoarded worthless junk, Cassie, old bank statements and broken trinkets that will only drag out your grief,” Patrick said dismissively.

“I’m the executor of her estate, and I’ll be the one who decides what stays and what goes,” I said firmly.

His fake smile tightened at the corners, exposing the cold annoyance under his charming surface.