“Madison, did you know about the asset transfers?”
Daniel guided me through the crowd without answering. My coat was buttoned again, but I no longer felt hidden inside it. I felt like someone stepping out of a room that had been locked for years, blinking at daylight, unsure yet grateful that the door had opened at all.
Outside the courthouse, winter sunlight reflected off the steps. The air smelled of rain and traffic.
Daniel’s assistant, Priya, waited beside a dark sedan.
“Clara is fine,” she said before I could ask. “A plainclothes officer spoke with the school principal. No disturbance. Your sister is inside teaching.”
My knees weakened so suddenly that Daniel reached for my arm.
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you.”
Priya handed Daniel a tablet. “Also, I found something on Crown Ridge Archives. Whitaker Holdings has an account there, active for eleven years. Payments stopped six months ago, then resumed last week.”
