Every sacrifice had seemed small when viewed separately.
Together, they had built a cage.
I simply hadn’t recognized the bars.
Rebecca sat beside me.
“Have you called your father’s attorney?”
“No.”
“You need to.”
His name was Thomas Whitaker.
He had known my father for nearly thirty years and had helped establish Maya’s trust after Dad’s death.
When I called, Thomas answered with his usual professional warmth.
“Elena. What can I do for you?”
I told him everything.
By the time I finished, his voice had changed.
“Listen carefully. Adrian contacted my office last month.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“He claimed Maya had developed a serious medical condition and that emergency expenditures might become necessary.”
The room seemed to spin.
“He said that?”
“Yes. He wanted to know whether certain assets could be released early to cover specialized treatment and related expenses.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
“Thomas, Maya was healthy until Cameron started bringing her home unconscious.”
