own nursery. Don’t be dramatic.”
Miles closed the apartment door behind him.
“Is she?” he asked.
Adam’s eyes flicked to him.
Julian reached into his coat and removed a cream envelope, damp at one corner from the rain. The sight of it made Adam’s face change. It was small, a loosening around the mouth, a shallow breath, but Clara saw it.
Fear.
“What is that?” she asked.
Julian came closer but stopped several feet away, as if careful not to overwhelm her. “Our attorney received an automated notice this morning from the county recorder’s office. There was an attempt to transfer this condo into a limited liability company registered three weeks ago.”
Clara did not understand the sentence at first.
Her mind snagged on small details. Three weeks ago. The county recorder. Transfer.
“What company?” she whispered.
Miles answered without looking away from Adam.
“Harbor West Residential. Registered under Adam’s name, using Evelyn’s address.”
Evelyn was Adam’s mother.
Lily stirred against Clara’s shoulder. Clara pressed her lips to the baby’s soft hair and breathed in, trying to keep her hands steady.
“No,” she said. “No, that can’t happen. I didn’t sign anything.”
Adam turned quickly. “Because it hasn’t happened yet. It’s paperwork. Your brothers are making it sound criminal because that’s what they do. They turn everything into a threat.”
Julian opened the envelope and removed a copy of a notarized document.
The paper was ordinary. White. Crisp. Harmless-looking. Clara saw her printed name halfway down and a signature at the bottom that looked almost like hers.
Almost.
Her stomach dropped.
“I didn’t sign that,” she said.
Adam dragged a hand through his hair. “You signed several documents at the hospital. You were tired. You don’t remember every page.”
The hospital.
The word pulled her backward.
She saw the white ceiling tiles above her bed. The blood pressure cuff squeezing her arm. Nora in an incubator down the hall. Lily under blue light. Adam beside her with a clipboard, saying, just one more consent form, babe, insurance is being impossible. She remembered the pen between her fingers. She remembered his thumb stroking her wrist while she signed because she was afraid and medicated and wanted him to handle one thing, just one thing, without making her beg.
Clara’s eyes lifted to his.
“You told me it was insurance.”
Adam’s face flushed.
“It was related to our finances.”
“You told me it was insurance.”
Miles took one step forward. “Answer her.”
Adam snapped, “You don’t get to order me around in my home.”
“It isn’t your home,” Clara said.
The words came quietly, but every person in the room heard them.
Adam looked at her then, truly looked, and something like anger mixed with panic moved across his face.
“You have no idea what pressure I’ve been under,” he said. “My company is drowning. My mother put money in. Megan needs help. Everyone comes to me because I’m the only one willing to make hard decisions.”
“Hard decisions,” Clara repeated. “You mean stealing my home while I was recovering from giving birth?”
“I was trying to protect our future.”
“By putting your sister in my nursery?”
His mouth opened and closed.
Julian slid the document back into the envelope.
“The transfer was flagged because Clara’s father placed a restriction on the
