Catherine took a deep breath and watched as Clark shuffled the papers in his folder. She could have signed them all before coming to the house, but she'd wanted to do it in front of her aunt and uncle.

Clark placed the tables on the low coffee table, and she knelt. She took the heavy metal pen he offered and signed her name, dragging the pen across the paper as slowly as possible. She finished with a flourish and reached for the next page. Except for the scratch of the pen on paper, the room was silent. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, but she refused to look up.

​​

As she signed her name repeatedly, a surge of relief flooded through her. She had spent years and years imagining various scenarios, but she'd never thought it would have been so easy. She signed her name one last time, capped the pen, and stood up with a satisfied smile.

"It's done," she said.

"Don't think we won't fight this," Melanie said.

"Fight all you like," Catherine replied. "Though I'm not sure how you plan to pay for a lawyer."

"Don't forget, your uncle still runs the company," Melanie said.

"For now," Catherine replied. "But now I have 10% of the shares."

"You bitch," Melanie wailed. "Your uncle spent years working to protect and build the company legacy—you can't just kick him out."

She shrugged, unconcerned, "I guess we'll see what the shareholders say when I convene a meeting. But somehow, I have a feeling they miss their old profits."

"You forget that I still hold 20%," Lawson said.

Catherine shrugged, "For now."

"Is that a threat?" Lawson asked.

"Only if you feel threatened, Uncle," Catherine replied.

"You're going to regret this," he said. "I don't know who has put you up to this or who has put these ideas in your head, but I'm telling you, you'll regret it."

"It was that bitch, Maria," Melanie said, raising a manicured finger to point. "She started scheming before James was even cold in his grave, and now she's back to finish what she started."

"Oh, please," Catherine said. "We both know Maria didn't scheme at all. You drove her away and bullied her out of her own home, and she didn't even put up a fight."

"She didn't put up a fight because she knew she'd get caught," Melanie said. "Or have you forgotten everything that happened?"

"I remember it all too well," Catherine said. "I remember the day you showed up on our doorstep and moved in. We were all too grief-stricken to care. Hell, we were grateful. You took charge immediately—running the house, taking care of the day to day expenses. We didn't realize that you never planned to give any of it back."

"That's absurd," Melanie said. "What were we supposed to do? Let a teenage girl take charge of a multi-million dollar company?"

"If you were just running it for me, how come you switched everything you could find into your names?" Catherine asked. "Besides, Maria could have done it."

"Oh, don't get me started on Maria," Melanie snapped. "A poor girl who married a grieving widower right after his beloved wife died. Oh, she wasted no time getting her little claws in your father. Do you think she would have let you have anything? Of course not, she was going to give it all to her bastard son. Or have you forgotten that too? She cheated on your father."

"That's enough, Melanie," Lawson said, tugging at his tie. He looked around the room, nodding at each person. "I see that emotions are high, but let's try to be reasonable."

"Reasonable?" Catherine asked. "I think I'm perfectly reasonable. I'm taking my rightful inheritance back—well, at least what's left of it. If I want, I could take you to court. I could stand up in front of a judge and see what the law had to say about your actions. I'm pretty sure theft and forgery are both crimes and let's be honest, you and I both know that if I dug deep enough, we could add embezzlement to the list."

The color drained from Lawson's cheeks, and his face sagged, "You wouldn't—"

"No," she said. "I'd rather not, but if you force my hand, I'll do what I have to do."

"A court of law would never side with you," Melanie said.

"I don't know," Catherine said with a shrug. "As you said, I'm just a stupid girl. But Mr. Foster, a respected lawyer, seems to think I have a case."

She walked to the credenza in the corner of the room and poured herself a juice from the jug Samuel had brought into the room. She sipped the orange juice, enjoying the way everyone watched her nervously.

"You know," she said. "I'm not sure my aunt and uncle are clear on the details, Mr. Foster. Can you please explain to them exactly what's going to happen?"

Clark cleared his throat and said, "James Stewart' property will be divided equally among his wife and his two children, with Catherine Blair acting as conservator. The property consists of the three homes he owns and his 10% share in the company, as well as the money in the bank account he held in trust for Catherine and the accrued interest on that account."

"This is all a terrible misunderstanding," Lawson said, panic rising in his voice. "Of course, Catherine can have her rightful share of the inheritance—we meant for her to have it all along. But we deserve something too. We're still part of the family. What's more, as the majority shareholder in the company, I refuse to allow a teenage girl to join in board meetings. Surely, there must be some sort of law against that?"

"Fine," Catherine sighed. "If you want to make this difficult, we can go to court."

"You horrible child," Melanie hissed. "You can't do this to us! How can you betray your family for these two pretenders? Samuel isn't James' son—he has no right to inherit his property. And I'm sure a cheating wife has no right either."

"James was the love of my life," Maria said, her voice soft but determined. "How dare you accuse me of cheating on him! How dare you call his son a bastard!"

"Have you forgotten the DNA test?" Melanie asked.

"Samuel is James' son," Maria said. "I swear on my life."

"He's a bastard," Melanie shouted. "A bastard born from a girl with no family name and God knows what kind of father."

Catherine looked at Maria. Her eyes flashed with anger, and she leaned forward as if ready for a fight. Samuel, on the other hand, had shrunken into the sofa cushions. His eyes shone with unshed tears, and he stared unblinkingly into the distance as if trying not to cry.

She felt another wave of guilt for everything that had happened. She'd been enjoying her victory—she could have just sent them the papers, but she'd wanted to see their faces. She looked at Samuel again, at the tremble in his lip, and she suddenly wanted it all to be over.

"That brings me to my next point," she said. "Dr. Jordan, did you bring everything I asked?"

Everyone turned to look at the doctor as if surprised to find he was still in the room. He sighed and reached into the breast pocket of his sports coat, pulling out several folded papers.

"Can you explain what you have there?" she asked.

Carl sighed, "Yes, this is the DNA report I did on Samuel Stewart."

"And?" Catherine asked.

"And it was forged," Carl said.