After Jonah left, Owen read Celeste’s notebook twice.

“She wrote about us like we were stains on a couch,” he said.

“She has money, lawyers, board members, and people trained to believe her.”

Owen tapped the trust document.

“And you have her signature.”

“That doesn’t mean I know how to fight her.”

“No,” he said. “But it means she knows you can.”

Those words stayed with me the next morning when Celeste called.

“Sadie, dear,” she said. “We have business to conclude.”

Her office hadn’t changed, but everything else had.

Celeste opened a folder.

“You’ve done more than anyone expected.”

“I know.”

One eyebrow lifted before she slid a check across the desk.

$100,000.

For one brief moment, I pictured Owen’s college tuition, a dependable car, and six months of rent.

“What do you want me to sign?” I asked.

“A trustee resignation. You were compensated fairly, Sadie. Let’s not rewrite survival as romance.”