Instead of arguing, I handed the lawyer a document I had prepared long ago, back when I first left for Seattle. It was a notarized letter from my father, acknowledging my mother’s wishes for me, and implicitly recognizing the bond we once shared. The lawyer scanned the document, his expression shifting from confusion to realization. Vivien’s confident smile faltered as she sensed the change in the room.

“Mrs. Carter,” the lawyer began, his voice steady, “Lucian has every right to be here. This letter clarifies James’s intent. We will proceed with him present.”