He thought showing off a red luxury supercar that wasn't even his would make him look like an untouchable king, but a single click of a key fob turned his arrogant boast into the most embarrassing defeat of his life.

Three days later, Ethan's phone rang at seven in the morning.

He didn't recognize the number.

He almost let it go to voicemail.

Then he picked up.

"Is this Ethan?" The voice was male, clipped, businesslike.

"My name is Richard Holt.

I'm an attorney.

I represent a party who has become aware of certain — claims — being made about Gerald Marsh's estate.

I'd like to meet with you at your earliest convenience."

Ethan sat up in bed.

"What claims?

I haven't made any claims."

"I understand that," Holt said smoothly.

"Nevertheless, my client has concerns about recent changes to Mr.

Marsh's estate documentation and would like to discuss those concerns with you directly."

"Who is your client?"

A pause — just long enough to be deliberate.

"I'm not at liberty to say at this stage.

But I can tell you that my client has a long-standing and legally documented relationship with Mr.

Marsh, and they feel that recent developments may not be in his best interest." Another pause.

"Or yours."

"I'll need to know who you represent before I agree to any meeting," Ethan said.

"Of course," Holt said.

"I'll have my office send you the relevant information.

I hope we can approach this as reasonable adults." The line went dead.

Ethan stared at the ceiling for a moment.

Then he called Antoine.

Antoine picked up on the second ring.

"I was going to call you.

Did someone named Holt reach out?"

"Just now.

Who is he?"

"He represents my mother," Antoine said.

The word came out flat and careful.

"My mother — Gerald's wife.

Ex-wife.

They divorced six years ago.

She received a settlement at the time.

She has no legal claim on anything further." A pause.

"She found out about you two days ago.

I don't know how."

"She didn't know?"

"Gerald told her about you when they divorced.

She knew you existed.

She didn't know he'd formally acknowledged you in the estate documents." Antoine's voice was controlled, but Ethan could hear something underneath it.

"She has a son from a previous marriage.

His name is Callum.

He's been expecting a significant inheritance."

Ethan was quiet for a moment.

"And now he's getting less."

"Now he's getting what Gerald always intended him to get, which is less than he assumed," Antoine said.

"Callum has been — difficult — about money for a long time.

Gerald cut his direct access to the business accounts two years ago after some irregularities.

Callum blamed me."

"Did you have anything to do with it?"

"I'm the one who found the irregularities," Antoine said.

"So yes, depending on how you look at it." He paused.

"Ethan, don't meet with Holt alone.

And don't sign anything.

I'm going to call Gerald's attorney today."

"What does Callum want?"

"He wants you to go away," Antoine said simply.

"If you're not in the picture, the estate reverts to what he was expecting.

He'll try to pressure you, or pay you off, or convince you that accepting anything from Gerald is somehow wrong." A pause.

"He's going to tell you things about Gerald.

Some of it will be true.

Some of it will be framed to make you feel like walking away is the honorable choice."

"Is there anything true that I should know?"

Antoine was quiet for a moment.

"Gerald wasn't a perfect father.

To me either.

He was absent in ways that didn't have anything to do with you — work, focus, the particular kind of emotional distance that men of his generation thought was normal.

I love him and I know his faults." He paused.

"But he is not what Callum is going to paint him as."

Ethan got out of bed and walked to the window.

The street below was ordinary and quiet, a delivery driver unloading boxes, a woman walking a dog, the whole unremarkable machinery of a normal morning.

"Holt said his client had concerns about whether recent developments were in Gerald's best interest," Ethan said.

"He said it might not be in mine either."

"That's a threat," Antoine said.

"Wrapped in concern."

"I figured." Ethan watched the delivery driver stack boxes on a dolly.

"What kind of irregularities did Callum commit?"

A pause.

"He redirected funds from a subsidiary account.

Not a large amount — large enough to matter, not large enough to prosecute easily.

Gerald chose not to pursue it legally.

He cut Callum's access instead and told him why." Antoine's voice was careful.

"Callum has never forgiven him for that.