“My aunt’s estate.”

He blinked, processing. “I didn’t even know she was sick.”

“She wasn’t public,” Kaye said.

James stepped closer. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Technically accurate.

He hesitated. “Do you want me there?”

Kaye studied him, not searching for guilt, searching for reflex. If James attended, Eleanor would know within an hour. Vanessa might know sooner.

“No,” Kaye said gently. “It’s preliminary.”

James exhaled like he was relieved. “Okay. Just keep me in the loop.”

Loop. She wrote it down later.

May 2: James requested inclusion. Mild tension.

The next morning, Kaye drove into Manhattan alone. Harrison & Blythe occupied three floors of a glass tower overlooking the Hudson. The lobby smelled faintly of polished wood and restraint. Daniel Harper greeted her in person, early forties, controlled expression, no false warmth.

In a private conference room, documents were laid out in precise stacks. Victoria Ford’s signature appeared steady across multiple pages.

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