Reginald produced a heavy pen from his suit pocket. “Sign it today, Florence, and maybe we’ll send you a little something each month so you don’t end up on the street.

Refuse, and you’ll raise that child in the gutter with nothing from us.”

They were trying to frighten me while I was weak and exhausted and still in pain from giving birth — to strip me of millions before I could gather myself.

They hadn’t come to meet their grandson. They’d come to rob me.

“I’m holding my son,” I said quietly, keeping my arms tight around Kirk. “I’m not signing your paper.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Barbara spat, leaning over the table. “If you don’t, I’ll make sure no one in Florida ever hires you.”