“Sign them!” my husband sneered, one arm wrapped around my sister’s waist as she rubbed her stomach and smiled at me like she’d already won. I swallowed the hum:iliation, picked up the pen, and signed every page without shedding a tear. “That’s more like it,” he laughed. But when his mother opened the final folder, the color drained from her face. She looked at me, trembling—and finally realized what I had actually signed.

Two weeks after Daniel’s arrest, the fallout reached its inevitable climax.

I sat in my grandfather's study at Vance Manor, sipping dark coffee while reviewing the liquidations ledger.

Margaret Mercer’s private life had completely collapsed. Without Daniel’s stolen funds to sustain her lavish lifestyle, her private creditors had moved in like vultures. Her luxury penthouse was seized, her vintage jewelry collection was put up for public auction, and her social club memberships were revoked overnight.

She was currently staying in a dingy, one-bedroom motel near the highway, selling off her remaining designer handbags just to afford Daniel’s preliminary bail hearing fees.

A soft knock came at the study door.

Evelyn Shaw walked in, holding a thick folder.

“How are our favorite criminals faring?” I asked, gesturing for her to take a seat.

“Daniel’s bail was set at five million dollars,” Evelyn reported with a grim smile. “He couldn't raise five hundred bucks. He’s staying in federal custody until his trial in November.”

“And Vanessa?”

Evelyn paused, pulling out a set of medical and legal documents. “Vanessa moved back into your mother’s small apartment on the south side. She’s broke, Claire. She tried to apply for a personal loan yesterday, but her name is flagged across three major banks due to her association with Daniel’s shell companies.”

I looked at the window, watching the autumn leaves drift down onto the garden lawn.

“Did she have knowledge of the financial fraud?” I asked.

“No,” Evelyn shook her head. “She was just a foolish, greedy girl who thought she was catching a big fish. She didn't sign any corporate documents. Legally, she’s clean. Financially, she’s ruined.”

I pulled a pen from my desk drawer.

“Draft a private educational and medical trust,” I instructed Evelyn softly. “Put fifty thousand dollars a year into it, administered directly by an independent fiduciary.”

Evelyn looked surprised. “After what she did to you?”

“Not for Vanessa,” I clarified, my voice steady and clear. “For the child. The baby didn't choose its parents. But make sure Vanessa cannot touch a single cent of the capital for her personal use.”