Chapter 8 — Noah

I called the one person who might understand the documents: my cousin Noah Bennett, an attorney in San Francisco. Two years older, he’d always acted like an older brother — childhood summers racing bikes along the marina, hiding from formal dinners in my grandfather’s workshop.

“Aren’t you supposed to be drinking champagne beside the ocean?”

“I need legal advice.” His tone changed instantly. “I need you to look up a company called HB Coastal Ventures. And tell me whether marriage can affect ownership rights in a family business.”

Silence. A chair moved. “Where is Daniel?”

“At the villa.”

“And where are you?”