Thomas let out a mocking laugh. “Hazel? The crazy old woman died last week. Her estate is nonexistent. Her stipend dissolved and her shares reverted to my father’s trust at midnight the day she passed.

You’re too late, counselor.”

“Actually, Thomas,” I said, stepping forward and opening my briefcase, “you’re the one who’s misinformed.”

Robert narrowed his eyes, tracking me. “Who the hell are you? An assistant?”

“My name is Julian Vance,” I said, and my voice carried clearly across the room. “I’m Hazel’s husband. And as of three days ago, I’m the sole heir to her estate—including the forty-five percent of voting shares she kept hidden from your family for forty years.”

The room went dead silent. The board members looked at one another, faces shifting from confusion to unease.