Grafton stormed into Arthur Sterling's office at Huff Enterprises. He kicked the door shut.
"Freeze it all!" he roared. "The trust. The checking accounts. I want her card to decline when she tries to buy a pack of gum. I want her starving."
Arthur looked pale. He was sweating through his dress shirt. He tapped a key on his keyboard and turned the monitor toward Grafton.
"Sir... there's a problem."
Grafton looked at the screen. It was a transaction history for the Wiley Legacy Trust.
"It's empty?" Grafton asked, hopeful.
"No," Arthur said. "It's full. She hasn't touched the principal in ten years. The only withdrawals were for approved charitable donations and medical research grants."
Grafton stared. He had spent years calling her a leech. He had convinced himself she stuck around for the prestige and the access.
"Dig deeper," Grafton commanded. "Where is she getting money?"
Arthur clicked a folder labeled External Assets.
"I ran a forensic audit when she demanded the IP rights," Arthur said. "Her name is attached to four offshore holding companies. They own the co-development rights to our three best-selling neurology drugs."
Grafton felt the room spin. "That's impossible. Those are Huff patents."
"The corporate charter," Arthur whispered. "Clause 14B, from your grandfather. 'Intellectual contributions to family business shall remain the property of the creator.' You signed off on it during the last shareholder meeting, assuming it only applied to her watercolor paintings."
Grafton remembered. He remembered laughing as he signed it, thinking he was protecting his grandfather's legacy from a hobbyist.
The fax machine in the corner whirred. A single sheet of paper slid out.
Arthur picked it up. His hands shook.
"It's a Cease and Desist," Arthur said. "From Elias Thorne. Her lawyer. She's demanding retroactive royalties. Fifty million dollars. Or she pulls the licenses."
Grafton grabbed the paper. The number was staggering.
"If she pulls the licenses, the stock tanks," Arthur said. "We lose the FDA approval."
Grafton crumpled the paper. He felt trapped. For the first time in his life, he wasn't the one holding the leash.
His phone rang. It was Ainsley.
"Uncle Grafton!" she wailed. "People are posting mean comments on my Instagram because of the gala photos. I lost ten thousand followers! Do something!"
Grafton squeezed the phone. His niece's voice grated on his nerves like a drill.
"Not now, Ainsley," he snapped.
"But Uncle-"
He hung up. He looked out the window at the skyline he thought he owned.
Somewhere out there, Katharina was watching.
He felt a sharp pain in his side. He reached for the bottle of vitamins Harlow had given him. He popped two. They tasted like chalk.
In a small office in Queens, Katharina sat across from Elias. She was looking at a hard drive.
"The audit scared them," Elias said. "But they won't pay. They'll fight."
"I know," Katharina said. "That's why I need the leverage."
"What leverage?"
"The Hamptons house," she said. "There's a safe in the wine cellar. Grafton thinks I don't know the combination."
"It's risky," Elias warned.
Katharina stood up. "He's letting his nephew wait for bone marrow because he doesn't want to lose a patent. I'm done being careful."
