A composed woman in a tailored suit entered, introducing herself as Claire Kingston. “Ms. Hayes, thank you for coming on such short notice,” she said, her voice professional yet warm. “Please, have a seat.”

Amelia settled into the leather chair, her gaze steady despite the turmoil inside. “I’m not sure why I’m here,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know any Margaret Whitmore.”

Claire nodded, flipping open a thick file. “Margaret Whitmore was a reclusive philanthropist,” she explained. “She passed away last month, and according to her will, you are the primary beneficiary.”