I pulled my hand back, away from the waiver, away from the pen Arthur offered. My fingers brushed against the trust document in my briefcase. A defiant tremor ran through me.
“No,” I said, my voice firmer than I expected. “I will not sign. I defer to formal probate discovery.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened. The cool calculation in his eyes darkened, turning to something colder, harder.
“Then understand this, Elena,” he warned, his voice a low growl. “War has begun.”
His legal team shifted, ready for battle. Albright, however, moved with purpose. As he escorted me past the security desk, past the watchful eyes of the board, his hand brushed against my coat pocket.
A small, cool object slid inside. A flash drive.
He gave me a quick, almost imperceptible nod. Then he ushered me out of the building.
The Manhattan rain began to fall, cold and insistent, as I stepped onto the street, the flash drive a secret weight in my pocket.
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