The lobby of the Grand Harbour Hotel was a monument to old-money grandeur, filled with towering marble columns, gilded mirrors, and the soft, polite hum of Ashport's elite sipping afternoon tea.

I walked through the brass revolving doors at eleven the following morning, wearing a tailored charcoal wool coat and carrying a slim leather portfolio. Marcus remained in the discreet black town car parked along the curb outside, his direct audio feed linked to the small wireless earpiece hidden behind my hair.

"She's seated at the mezzanine cafe," Marcus's voice crackled softly in my ear. "Corner table overlooking the bay. Alone."

I took the grand spiral staircase to the second floor, my heels clicking softly against the marble steps. The air was perfumed with polished mahogany and fresh lilies.

Catherine Sterling was sitting by the tall glass terrace windows, an open espresso cup and a tablet before her. She was in her early thirties, dressed in an immaculate ivory pantsuit, her dark hair swept back in a severe, professional chignon. She possessed the sharp, guarded expression of someone who made a living out of hiding secrets in plain sight.

I pulled out the leather armchair across from her and sat down without an invitation.

Her eyes flicked up, narrowing slightly, but her composure remained unbroken. "Mrs. Cain. I didn't expect you to handle your husband's errands in person."

"This isn't Daniel's errand, Miss Sterling," I said calmly, resting my hands on the table. "This is about my children’s future. And about the five hours you helped steal from my life four years ago."

A flicker of hesitation crossed her eyes, quickly masked by a cool smirk. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I represent *Aegis-Vance International*. We have a lawful, pre-existing lien on the south ridge of Raven Hill. If you wish to negotiate a settlement, you should speak with our litigation counsel."

"Your father was a notary, Catherine," I said, keeping my voice quiet, even, and razor-sharp. "He was a good man until Patricia Hayes paid for your tuition at Yale. When he fell ill, he signed whatever papers Patricia put in front of him because he thought he was protecting you."

"Do not speak of my father," she replied, her voice tightening.

"I have his medical records," I said, bluffing with supreme confidence. "I also have the private ledger he kept in the safe behind his desk on River Street. The ledger he didn't give to Patricia. The one where he noted every single transaction that used Julian Cain’s forged seal."

Her face went pale. The hand resting beside her espresso cup twitched ever so slightly.

"You're lying," she whispered. "That safe was empty."

"How do you know it was empty?" I asked, leaning forward just an inch. "Unless you were the one who cleaned it out before the estate went to auction?"

She swallowed hard, realizing the trap she had walked into.

"I didn't forge anything," she said, her voice dropping into a desperate hiss. "Patricia called me that morning. She said Daniel was planning to bankrupt the entire estate to please his new bride. She told me that if I executed the lien, it would protect the Cain lineage from being dismantled by an outsider."

"And you believed her?" I asked. "Or did you believe the promise of a seven-figure trustee fee when the ridge was auctioned off?"

"It doesn't matter what I believed," Catherine said, recovering her venom. "The lien is registered in the state registry. The deadline is tomorrow at five o'clock. You cannot vacate a recorded encumbrance in twenty-four hours without a judge’s signature, and Judge Langston is an old friend of my father’s family. He will not grant an emergency hearing on hearsay."

"Judge Langston retired two weeks ago," I said, a faint smile touching my lips. "The presiding magistrate in Ashport is now Arthur Pendelton. Would you like me to tell you how he feels about Patricia Hayes?"