Daniel chose his mother after she hu:mi:liated me at dinner. I walked out without fighting back because at noon, I was returning with proof that their beloved mansion was legally mine.

called with news that changed everything.

The mansion they were sitting in—the twelve-bedroom Whitmore estate Patricia bragged had belonged to her family for generations—had never legally belonged to Patricia.

It belonged to a trust.

And that trust now belonged to me.

I stood, wiped the sauce from my hands, and picked up my purse.

Daniel refused to meet my eyes.

“Evelyn,” he muttered, “just go.”

I smiled.

“I will.”

At 11:47 that morning, I walked out humiliated.

At noon, I intended to walk back in as the legal owner.