She turned the page toward me.

Across the top were four words.

CONFIDENTIAL PARTNERSHIP AGREEMENT — CALLAWAY HOLDINGS.

I read them twice.

“Why would Uncle Elliott have documents from Weston’s company?”

Olivia sat beside me.

There were signatures dated twenty-nine years earlier.

Richard Callaway’s was one of them.

Elliott Mercer’s was another.

I didn’t understand most of the language, but one number appeared repeatedly.

37%.

I called Arthur again.

This time he answered immediately.

“You have it?”

“Yes. What am I looking at?”

He didn’t answer quickly.

“Twenty-nine years ago, Callaway Holdings was in serious financial trouble.”

I looked at Olivia.

Arthur continued.

“Your uncle provided the capital that kept the company operating.”

“Weston’s company?”

“His family’s company, yes.”

I shifted Marlo against my shoulder.

“Why has nobody ever told me this?”

“Because Elliott didn’t want them to.”

According to Arthur, Elliott’s investment came with two things: thirty-seven percent of the company’s voting interest and a permanent board seat attached to that interest.

He had never taken an executive role.

He simply held his position quietly.

“What does this have to do with me?”

Arthur was silent for half a second.

“Elliott named you as his successor.”

I stopped rubbing Marlo’s back.

“Successor to what?”

“Everything attached to his Callaway interest.”

Olivia slowly stood.

I looked down at the document again.

“You’re saying I inherited stock?”

“Not ordinary stock. Voting rights, along with Elliott’s board position. The transfer became effective at midnight.”

I stared at the page.

Then the door opened.

Weston walked in carrying flowers.

He stopped when he saw Olivia.

Then he saw the folder.

The flowers lowered slightly in his hand.

His eyes went directly to the heading.

CONFIDENTIAL PARTNERSHIP AGREEMENT — CALLAWAY HOLDINGS.

For the first time since he had told me about Camille, Weston looked frightened.

“Where did you get that?”

I covered the phone.

“It belonged to Uncle Elliott.”

Weston put the flowers on the counter without looking away from the papers.

“Elliott Mercer?”

“Yes.”

His face lost color.

He crossed the room and reached toward the folder.

Olivia placed her hand over it.

“Don’t.”

Weston stopped.

“Sable, I need to see that.”

I uncovered the phone.

“Arthur, are you still there?”

“I’m here.”

Weston looked at me.

“You’re talking to Keene?”

I hadn’t told him Arthur’s last name.

That was when I knew Weston understood exactly what was in front of me.

“You knew Uncle Elliott was involved with Callaway Holdings.”

Weston didn’t answer.

“Weston.”

His eyes moved toward Marlo.

“My father handled Elliott.”

“Handled him how?”

“It’s complicated.”

Arthur spoke through the phone.

“It isn’t complicated, Sable.”

I put him on speaker.

“Your uncle held thirty-seven percent of the voting interest in Callaway Holdings. As of midnight, you hold it.”

Weston closed his eyes.

Just briefly.

Then he pulled the chair closer to my bed.

His voice was different when he spoke again.

Quieter.

“Sable, we need to talk.”

I looked at him.

Yesterday, he had stood beside that same bed and explained why our newborn daughter didn’t fit into his family’s future.

Now he was asking me to discuss his.

I picked up the folder and placed it beside Marlo’s little plastic hospital bracelet.

“Okay,” I said. “Now we can talk.”

The Conversation Weston Suddenly Wanted to Have

Weston pulled the chair closer to my hospital bed.

He didn’t sit.

“Thirty-seven percent doesn’t mean you control the company.”

Arthur was still on speaker.

“No one said it did,” he replied.

Weston looked irritated.

“This is a family business.”

I glanced at the folder beside Marlo.

“Apparently Uncle Elliott was family enough when you needed his money.”

Weston looked toward Olivia, then back at me.

“You don’t understand what happened twenty-nine years ago.”

“Then explain it.”

He didn’t.

Instead, he asked me to turn off the speaker.

I didn’t.

Twenty minutes later, Arthur arrived with Margaret Sloan, an attorney who had worked with my uncle’s investment firm. They didn’t bring another mountain of paperwork. Arthur simply opened the agreement to the page I had already seen.

Thirty-seven percent voting interest.

One board seat.

Transferred to me.

Margaret tapped the signature page.

“The company was notified this morning.”

Weston’s head snapped toward her.

“You notified the board before speaking to me?”

“We notified the company as required.”

“I’m the CEO.”

“Yes.”

The way she said it made him go quiet.

Arthur explained that my uncle’s position had never allowed him to run Callaway Holdings alone. Mine wouldn’t either.

But thirty-seven percent was enough to matter.

A lot.

Especially when the board was divided.

Weston finally sat down.

“Sable, you gave birth yesterday.”

Olivia actually laughed.

He ignored her.

“You shouldn’t be making corporate decisions right now.”

I looked at him.

Less than twenty-four hours earlier, I had apparently been capable of accepting the end of my marriage, negotiating financial support, and listening while he explained why our daughter shouldn’t be formally included in his family.

Now I was too fragile to vote.

“I’m capable of saying no.”

His mouth tightened.

“No to what?”

“To you.”

That afternoon, Richard and Helena arrived.

Helena came straight toward the baby.

I raised my hand.

She stopped.

Richard remained near the door.

“Sable, we’ve heard there’s some confusion regarding Elliott’s estate.”

Arthur looked up.

“There is no confusion.”

Richard’s eyes moved to him.

Then to the folder.

His expression changed.

He knew exactly what it was.

“This isn’t the place for a business discussion.”

“I agree,” I said.

He seemed relieved.

Then I continued.

“So you can leave.”

Helena stared at me.