Exactly what he wanted to hear.
Then my phone buzzed.
Lydia.
A photo appeared on the screen.
Her at a baby boutique.
Caption:
“Someday 
”
I stared at the image for three full seconds before replying:
“So cute.”
She responded instantly.
“You and Mark should start trying soon.”
The audacity almost impressed me.
—
Three days later came the signing meeting.
Monday.
Uptown Charlotte.
Exactly like Mark mentioned on the call.
The conference room gleamed with glass walls, polished wood, and enough expensive silence to make normal people nervous.
Mark arrived confident in a navy suit.
Lydia came too—pretending it was coincidence because she “worked nearby.”
She kissed my cheek.
I smelled Mark’s cologne on her immediately.
My father entered last.
Slower than usual.
Looking older.
Weaker.
Exactly the way Mark wanted him to look.
The attorneys laid out the paperwork.
Mark’s fingers tapped lightly against the table.
Excited.
Hungry.
“This will streamline temporary investment authority,” he explained smoothly. “Just routine restructuring.”
Then he slid the papers toward me.
And there it was.
The same signature page.
The same trap.
I looked at Mark.
He smiled warmly.
“Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.”
I picked up the pen slowly.
Across the table, Lydia tried not to smile.
My father lowered his eyes like a tired old man too exhausted to fight.
Mark leaned closer.
“Trust me.”
The irony nearly made me laugh out loud.
I uncapped the pen.
Then paused.
“Actually,” I said quietly, “before I sign anything… I think we should play a recording.”
Mark blinked.
“What?”
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