My mother left me hungry and lonely at 16. When my…

“Poison pill?” Grant asked, his voice high and tight. “In the event of a contest,” Marvin read, “the entirety of the estate—every dollar, every share, every brick of the house—will be immediately liquidated and donated to the Sawyer Foundation for Homeless Youth.

Neither Morgan Allen nor Paula Sawyer will receive a single cent.”

The room went dead silent. I looked at my mother. The realization was washing over her.

She thought she was fighting me for a slice of the pie. She didn’t realize that Elliot had rigged the entire bakery to explode. “This is a bluff,” Grant hissed.

“No one destroys $40 million just to make a point.”

“You didn’t know my uncle,” I said softly. Marvin looked at Paula. “The choice is yours, Ms.

Sawyer. You can walk away with $50,000 and your freedom, or you can fight for millions and ensure that no one gets anything. And keep in mind, if you fight, that evidence regarding the wire fraud goes to the district attorney.”

My mother looked at me.