“Eight months after divorcing me because I “couldn’t give him a family,”

But I also refused to leave her behind.

So we booked a private suite on the thirty-second floor of the Halston Grand, ten floors above Ryan’s wedding reception.

Elias Grant met us there at 1:30.

Elias had worked with my grandmother for twenty-seven years.

He was seventy, thin, soft-spoken, and had the unsettling ability to make millionaires panic by asking simple questions.

When he saw my daughter, his eyes filled with tears.

“She would have loved her,” he said.

I knew exactly who he meant.

Grandma Eleanor.

I swallowed.

“She would have terrified Ryan.”

“That too.”

Elias handed me another envelope.

“This arrived after Naomi left the hospital.”

“What is it?”

“Something I wish I had found sooner.”

Inside was a copy of my grandmother’s trust.

I frowned.

“I have this.”

“Not this schedule.”

He opened to an attached provision I had never seen.

My grandmother’s estate had multiple tiers.

I knew most of them.

Carter Biomedical voting shares.

Real estate holdings.

Patent royalties.

Investment accounts.

But this provision concerned something called the Generational Continuity Trust.