The trust was entirely private; my name wasn’t yet on any public registry connected to the building.

He thought Aunt Margaret’s estate was being run by some faceless corporate entity.

He was coming to the one place he thought he still had leverage, to beg the ghost of my aunt for a lifeline.

“Sarah,” I said, a slow smile spreading. “Tell Mr. Carter the CEO will grant him exactly five minutes. Tell him to come up to the main boardroom at three.”

I sat in the high-backed leather chair at the head of the polished oak table, turned to face the floor-to-ceiling windows over the gray expanse of the city.

I heard the heavy mahogany doors creak open, then the frantic breathing of a man who’d been running for his life, the scuff of his shoes on the carpet.