“Why would Grant claim the baby if it might not be his?”

Margot looked at her mother.

“Because of the trust.”

I said nothing.

Margot leaned closer.

“Our grandfather’s will was insane.”

“In what way?”

“The first male child in Grant’s line triggers control of the voting shares.”

My heart beat once.

Hard.

“First male child.”

“Legitimate or acknowledged, depending on legal circumstances.”

I looked down at Lily.

A daughter born of marriage.

A son conceived in betrayal.

A family that worshiped paper when it suited them and blood when paper failed.

Margot’s voice dropped.

“If Grant has a son, Mother can push the board to consolidate control before the Harbor Point vote.”

“Even if the child is Sabrina’s?”

“If Grant acknowledges paternity and you don’t challenge it quickly enough, they may try.”

I understood then.

The gold crib was not only a gift.

It was a strategy.

The nursery was not only cruelty.

It was a corporate maneuver wrapped in silk curtains.

Grant had not neglected Lily because she was a girl.

He had neglected her because he had already decided another child mattered more to his wallet.

That should have shattered me.

Instead, it sharpened me.

Cecelia saw us speaking and started toward us.

Sabrina followed half a step behind, triumphant.

“Elena,” Cecelia said.

“How lovely that you came.”

“To church?”

“To be with the family.”

I looked at Sabrina.

“Which family?”

A nearby woman pretending not to listen nearly dropped her prayer book.

Cecelia’s smile froze.

Sabrina’s eyes flashed.

Grant appeared at my side.

“Not here,” he said under his breath.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Sacred space.”

“You remembered.”

His hand closed around my elbow.

Not painfully.

Possessively.

I looked down at his fingers.

“Remove your hand.”

He did.

People had turned now.

That was the thing about rich churches.

The gossip was silent, but it had excellent posture.

Cecelia stepped closer.

“Elena, you are tired.”

“I am very awake.”

Sabrina gave a delicate sigh.

“Maybe this isn’t good for the baby.”

I looked at Lily.

“She’s sleeping.”

Sabrina’s cheeks colored.

“I meant yours.”

“Oh,” I said.

“The one in the palace upstairs.”

The air changed.

Grant’s face drained of warmth.

Cecelia’s lips parted.

Sabrina blinked like I had slapped her without moving.

I adjusted Lily’s blanket.

“Beautiful room, by the way.”

No one spoke.

“You should have locked the invoice, not just the door.”

Grant took one step toward me.

“Elena.”

I smiled at him.

It was the smile my mother would have recognized.

“Careful.”