I laughed, low and quiet.

“What an elegant name for asking me to hand over everything my father left me.” My mother’s lips went thin.

“Don’t start with the sarcasm, Katya.

Your father wasn’t thinking clearly at the end.” “My father signed his will in front of a licensed notary.” “Notaries make mistakes,” Brock offered from the window.

Fergus finally stood.

“Katya, look at the big picture.

I’m opening a restaurant group.