Catherine's mind raced as she left the apartment building and stepped into the glaring of July sun. She leaned against the hot metal of the car and closed her eyes, trying to sort through everything she knew about the company.

"Umm, Mrs. Sean, are you okay?" Geoffrey asked.

​​

"I'm fine," she answered. "Just thinking."

"Would you mind thinking inside the car?" Geoffrey asked. "It's in the middle of the street, and I'd rather not get a ticket."

"Alright," Catherine sighed. "Can you circle the block while I think?"

"I think I should take you home, Mrs. Blair," Geoffrey said. "You don't look well."

"No, I have to run other errands," she said.

"Where to?" Geoffrey asked.

"That's what I don't know," she said.

She saw Geoffrey give her a worried look in the rearview mirror, but she ignored it. If her father set aside shares of the company, who did he entrust them to? She would have guessed Alan, but he seemed didn't know anything at all. The car swung around the block and turned into the business district, passing a small, seedy-looking law office.

"Geoffrey," she called from the backseat. "Can you drive to Clark Foster's law office? It's called Foster and Kent."

Geoffrey punched the information into the navigator and swung the car around in a U-turn. Catherine sat impatiently in the backseat, wishing Geoffrey wasn't such a cautious driver. The car finally pulled into an underground parking lot in the heart of the business district.

A steely-eyed receptionist stopped them in the lobby. Catherine explained she wanted to see Clark, but the receptionist looked amused.

"Do you have an appointment?" the receptionist asked.

"No," she said. "But tell Clark that Catherine Stewart is here to see him. I'm sure he'll make an exception."

The receptionist scowled but picked up the phone. Seconds later, they were in the elevator on the way up to the top floor of the building. Clark himself greeted them outside the elevator doors.

"Mr. Foster, it's so good to see you," she said. "You look well."

Clark Foster laughed and shook his head, "You're such a flatterer, Cathy. I'm getting old and fat—unlike you. You look even lovelier than I remember."

Catherine smiled and shook her head. It was true that Clark had gotten fatter in the last four years. He'd been around, jolly man when she first met him, but now the buttons on his shirt looked strained. He gestured for them to follow him and led them into a large corner office. Framed degrees hung on the walls, and tall, antique file cabinets held case notes. Piles of paper covered his desk, and books lay open on the floor.

"Don't mind the mess," Clark said, settling into his desk chair.

Catherine sat down opposite the desk, and Geoffrey stood by the door.

"I've been expecting you, Cathy," Clark said, steepling his fingers together in front of his mouth.

"Really?" she asked, surprised.

"For four years," he answered. "Ever since your father died."

Her heart hammered in her chest, "Why?"

"Well, as you know, your father never made an official will," Clark said. "He was young and in such perfect health. I warned him that he should draw one up—if only to protect you and Samuel, but he wasn't worried about it. He was a very trusting man, your father."

"I know," Catherine said sadly.

"When the accident happened, he never regained full consciousness," Clark said. "It was too late for him to make a will or even sign one."

Catherine sighed, remembering the terrible days in the hospital. Her father had lingered for several days before he died, hooked up to dozens of machines that kept his dying body alive just a bit longer.

"I know there's no will," she said. "But did he leave anything with you? Anything at all?"

"He did," Clark said. "He signed an equity transfer agreement to give you 10% of the company."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" she asked. "Why didn't you tell me when he died?"

Clark sighed, "Well, for one, the shares were meant to be a birthday gift. The agreement stipulates that you can't receive them before your 20th birthday. Though there are ways around that, of course."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

"Because I was worried your uncle would find a way to take them from you," Clark replied. "You were a grief-stricken girl, and he was already grabbing everything he could."

She nodded, "You have a point. After my dad's death, the Stewarts controlled me."

"That's what worried me," he said.

"I'm free from them now," she said. "But I'm still 19–there are ways to get the shares now, right?"

"Yes," Clark said. "It's not a legally binding condition—as long as you're of age, you can legally own the shares."

"Okay," she said. "And with 10% of the shares, I can take part in the company's decision-making processes, right?"

"Of course," Clark said.

"Perfect," she said. "Can you start the paperwork to make the transfer official?"

Clark stood and reached inside a desk drawer. He pulled out a set of keys and unlocked one of the tall file cabinets. Methodically he flipped through the files and selected a few. He carried them back to the desk and placed them in the middle.

"It will take a few days to make everything official," Clark said.

"That's alright," she said.

She watched absently as Clark flipped through the files wondering why he'd never contacted her in her last life. If he'd kept the information from her in order to keep the shares away from Lawson, why hadn't he contacted her after she eloped with Marco? She sighed—maybe he hadn't been able to find her. Marco had made her change all her numbers, and they'd moved around a lot.

She looked at Clark, hoping she could trust him. Though Sean had promised her to get rid of Lawson, she didn't want to rely on him or his people. It was her father's company, and she didn't want an outsider controlling it or changing it. If she could get rid of Lawson without Sean's help, she was sure Alan would help her run the company.

"There's one more thing," Clark said, still sorting through papers.

"What's that?" she asked.

"The dividends from this 10% have been accruing in a separate bank account," Clark said. "I'm afraid the company hasn't been doing that well, so there won't be as much as there should be, but that money is yours."

"Really?" she asked.

"Really," he said. "Lawson wasn't able to get access to that account."

He reached for his legal pad and scribbled a note in black ink. He tore the sheet from the bag and handed it to her—it was a bank account number and an address.

"Take this to the bank and show them your ID," Clark said. "If they give you any problems, call me."

"Thanks," she said.

"I'm afraid I have to be in court soon," he said. "But I'll call you as soon as everything is ready."

He stood, and she hugged him. He chuckled and hugged her back before walking her to the door.

Back in the car, she showed the address to Geoffrey. As the town car glided toward the bank, Catherine couldn't help but smile. One morning, she'd learned that she had 10% in her dad's company and that she had her own money. Maybe her independence would come sooner than she'd hoped.

After waiting in line at the bank, she was shown into the manager's office. She gave him her ID and the account number. His eyes widened with surprise as he looked at her ID, but he stayed calm and professional.

"The current balance of the account is just over ten million pounds," he said, after typing the account number into his computer. "Would you like to make a withdrawal or transfer?"

She couldn't believe her ears, "Ten million?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered.

"Leave it for now," she said.

"Very well," he replied. "Since you've just learned about this account, I'd like to inform you that there is a safe deposit box associated with the account."

Her heart hammered in her ears, "Can I open it?"

"Of course," he answered.

He led her into a private, curtained room and a bank employee appeared with the box. The employee left it on the table and passed Catherine the key before disappearing. With trembling hands, she took the key and opened the metal box.

Inside, there was a small velvet necklace case and three pieces of paper. She opened the velvet box and found a diamond necklace nestled on the satin inside. With a snap, she shut the box and reached for the papers. They looked like real estate deeds, but the language was confusing. She slipped the papers and the box into her purse and left the room.

Geoffrey stood outside the curtain, waiting for her. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Of course," Catherine answered. "Why?"

"You look very flushed," Geoffrey answered.

"I'm fine," she said. "Let's go home."

In the car back, Catherine was distracted. She stared out the window as they left the city, but she didn't see the landscapes. Her mind was on the Stewarts and everything they'd taken from her.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Sean?" Geoffrey asked again, eyeing her in the rearview mirror.

"You heard everything, Geoffrey," she answered. "My family—the people who helped raise, people I trusted—stole from me."

"Yes, ma'am," Geoffrey said, looking awkward. "It's a very strange situation."

"Tell me, what about your family, Geoffrey?" she asked. "Is it just mine that's this cruel and twisted, or are all families like that?"

"I wouldn't know about that," Geoffrey said. "I'm an orphan."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Catherine said.

"No, it's okay," Geoffrey answered. "The orphanage wasn't nice, but it wasn't like the movies either. I had everything I needed. Later, I joined the army, learned some skills, and then left the army I worked. Sometimes as a bodyguard and sometimes as a maid of sorts—not many people want to hire a female bodyguard."

"I see," Catherine said. "Why did you leave the army?"

"I was tired of being deployed and moving around all the time," Geoffrey said. "Though honestly, I think I've moved around more since leaving than I ever did while I was there."

"Oh," Catherine said, unsure of what else to say.

"You're a lucky woman, Mrs. Blair," Geoffrey said.

"Me?" she asked. "How?"

"You have a home," Geoffrey answered. "You have a family, and you have stability."

"I don't, though," Catherine said. "My family set me up and stole from me, they took my home, and they robbed me of an education."

"Well, you have Mr. Blair," Geoffrey said. "He cares about you."

Catherine shifted uncomfortably, "Yes, at least I have Sean."

She fell silent, thinking about her family and the mess she was in with them and Sean.