Christmas dinner turned ugly when Mom threw a glass of water at me and shouted, “Get out! Don’t dirty this house!” Nobody defended me. I just stood there, soaked and silent. Then I calmly picked up my bag and walked out without another word. One hour later, my phone exploded. Mom was crying, “Please come back…” We made a huge mistake.

The heavy oak door clicked shut, locking out the freezing night air and the intimidating presence of Julian Thorne. The moment we were back in the warm hallway, Arthur slammed his hand against the wall, a rare display of raw frustration escaping his usually controlled demeanor.

"Blackmail," Arthur hissed, pacing toward the kitchen island. "Using my past legal exposure as leverage to steal what is rightfully yours. They’re terrified of that offshore trust, Clara. That means Valensole Manor isn't just some old vacation home—it holds something they desperately don't want you to find."

I dropped onto one of the kitchen chairs, my phone clutched tightly in my hands. The screen displayed the emergency injunction document Julian had flashed us. "If we sign, we lose everything grandfather left us. If we don't, they drag you back into court and bleed us dry until we have nothing left to fight with."

"We aren't signing," Arthur said firmly, stopping his pacing and looking directly into my eyes. "Not yet. Julian made one critical mistake."

I looked up, hope flickering through the fog of my panic. "What mistake?"

"He brought a federal injunction that was rushed through at midnight," Arthur explained, his legal mind kicking into gear with razor-sharp precision. "Emergency injunctions require immediate supporting affidavits establishing probable cause of asset dissipation. But Marcus Thorne filed the codicil through a private notary archive that isn't connected to the domestic corporate registry. Julian’s clients couldn't possibly have known about Valensole Manor through normal legal channels unless..."

"Unless they hacked Marcus Thorne's private terminal," I finished, the realization dawning on me.

"Exactly," Arthur nodded. "Which means their injunction is built on illegally obtained intelligence—fruit of the poisonous tree. If we can stall them until morning and get Maya to file an emergency motion to quash based on digital trespassing, their entire midnight raid falls apart."

"Can Maya do that by morning?" I asked, my thumb hovering over her contact icon.

"Maya is the best damn corporate litigator this state has produced in a decade," Arthur said with absolute conviction. "Give her the encrypted text messages, the timestamp of Julian's visit, and the metadata from the injunction. She’ll tear their emergency order to shreds before the judge even finishes his morning coffee."

I didn't hesitate. I dialed Maya’s number directly, bypassing the messaging app.

It rang twice before a raspy, sleep-deprived voice answered. "Clara? Do you know what time it is? If this isn't about a life-or-death corporate emergency, I swear to God—"

"It's worse than that, Maya," I interrupted, my voice steady and resolute. "We’ve been cornered. I need you awake, I need you at your office, and I need you to destroy a federal injunction before sunrise."

On the other end of the line, I heard the rustle of sheets, followed immediately by the sound of a laptop opening and keys clicking with frantic speed. The sleepy exhaustion in Maya's voice vanished instantly, replaced by pure, tactical adrenaline.