attorney closed his eyes.
My father whispered, “That’s impossible.”
“It became effective when Grandpa died.”
“You were twenty-nine.”
“And licensed in this state.”
Claire snapped, “So sign it.”
I leaned back. “Why?”
“Because this family built that company.”
“No. Grandpa did.”
My mother’s voice sharpened. “After everything we’ve done for you?”
Then my attorney, Maya Chen, entered carrying another binder.
My father stared. “What is this?”
Maya sat beside me. “A petition for fiduciary accounting.”
Claire’s smile vanished before Maya even opened it.
Over the previous month, using records I
