Diane.
I answered.
Her voice was clipped.
“Eleanor, where are you?”
“In the greenhouse.”
“Is Brooke with you?”
“Yes.”
“Listen carefully. Do not let her leave.”
I looked at Brooke.
She stared back, pale as paper.
“Why?” I asked.
Diane exhaled once.
“Because the forensic accountant found a second ledger. Thomas wasn’t just hiding money from you. He was paying someone through Grant Holdings for decades under a false consulting contract.”
“Daniel Price,” I said.
Diane went quiet.
“How do you know that name?”
I looked at the photograph again.
The baby in the woman’s arms had Thomas’s eyes.
“Someone just delivered it to me.”
Diane’s voice dropped.
“Eleanor, Daniel Price was listed this morning as an emergency claimant against the trust.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Diane said slowly, “someone is claiming Thomas has another heir.”
Across from me, Brooke whispered, “It gets worse.”
I looked at her.
“What gets worse?”
She swallowed, eyes shining with fear.
“Daniel isn’t Thomas’s son.”
The phone slipped slightly in my hand.
Brooke looked toward the darkening windows of the greenhouse.
“He’s yours.”
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