"Grandpa is luring Dad out of the meeting room."

Grace was back in twenty-five minutes.

She came through the anteroom door with her case under one arm and a look on her face that Lucien had learned, over eleven years of working with her, meant she had found something worse than expected.

"The council secretary received three documents this morning," she said, setting her case on the table and opening it.

"The proxy.

A letter from Charles requesting that Edmund's voting rights be placed under administrative review pending a health assessment.

And a medical summary prepared by a Dr.

Daniel Ashworth."

Edmund looked up.

"An administrative review."

"It's a procedural mechanism.

Rarely used.

It allows the board to temporarily suspend a member's voting rights if there is documented concern about their capacity to make informed decisions." Grace set the documents on the table.

"Charles filed all three simultaneously.

The proxy, the review request, and the medical summary.

If the proxy revocation had come even an hour later, the review request might have given him grounds to contest it."

"But the revocation is already filed," Lucien said.

"It is.

And your father is sitting in this room, coherent, present, and clearly capable of making decisions.

The review request has no legs." She paused.

"However."

"However," Lucien repeated.

"The medical summary is a problem.

Not because of what it says — Daniel Ashworth's notes are factual and relatively benign.

Blood pressure slightly elevated, some fatigue, nothing that would ordinarily raise a flag.

The problem is that Charles filed it as though it were a formal capacity assessment.

It isn't.

It's routine clinical notes.

But if someone on the board reads it without knowing the difference, it could create doubt."

"Who on the board has already seen it?" Edmund asked.

"The secretary received it.

It's unclear how widely it's been distributed."

Lucien stood.

"I need to speak to the board chair before the session opens."

"Margaret Voss," Grace said.

"She's been on the council for fourteen years.

She knew your father before Charles was old enough to vote."

"I know her."

"She may already have questions.

Charles has been working the room since this morning."

Lucien picked up his jacket.

He looked at his father.

"Stay here.

Don't sign anything else.

Don't speak to Charles alone."

"I'm not a child, Lucien."

"I know.

I'm saying it anyway."

Edmund almost smiled.

It didn't quite arrive, but it came close.

"Go."

Lucien went.

The council floor was busier now.

Board members moved between the anteroom clusters and the main chamber, some in conversation, some checking phones, a few gathered near the window at the far end with coffee cups and lowered voices.

Lucien scanned the room.

He found Margaret Voss near the chamber entrance.

She was seventy-one, white-haired, and wore the expression of someone who had been on enough boards to recognize when something was wrong before anyone said it aloud.

She saw him coming and didn't look surprised.

"Lucien," she said.

"Margaret.

Have you read the documents Charles filed this morning?"

She studied him for a moment.

"I've seen the proxy and the review request.

The medical summary was attached."

"The medical summary was obtained without my father's knowledge or consent.

The physician who prepared it has confirmed that Charles requested it six weeks ago using my name.

My father never authorized it."

Margaret's expression didn't shift, but something behind her eyes did.

"That's a serious claim," she said.

"I have a written statement from the physician.

My lawyer is preparing a formal objection to the review request.

My father has revoked the proxy in writing.

He is present and intends to vote."

"Charles will contest the revocation."

"On what grounds?

My father is sitting in the anteroom.

He is coherent.

He is not under any medical order restricting his decision-making."

Margaret looked toward the chamber doors.

"Charles spoke to four board members this morning before the session.

He told them your father had been showing signs of confusion.

That he'd been concerned for months.

That the proxy was your father's own idea — that Edmund had come to him and asked him to hold the voting rights as a precaution."

Lucien kept his voice level.

"My father did not ask for that.

My father did not know what he was signing.

He was walked to an empty room until his legs gave out, and then presented with a document he couldn't read because his glasses had been removed from his coat."

Margaret was very still.

"Removed," she said.

"We believe so.

Yes."

She looked at him for a long moment.

Then she said: "Bring your father into the chamber when the session opens.

I want the board to see him walk in."

"He'll be there."

"And Lucien." She lowered her voice slightly.

"Charles asked me this morning to second the motion to accept the proxy as operative.

I told him I needed to review the paperwork first." She paused.

"I've reviewed it now."