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The studio. The apartment. The hardwood floors and north-facing windows and every damn invoice I signed because I didn't know how to tell her I love her with words so I said it in square footage.

Christian sits forward. "The land may be trust property, but the residential structures and west wing improvements were financed privately, outside trust assets. Any claim on those improvements would be legally contestable."

Preston glances at the property counsel, who checks something on his tablet and gives one reluctant nod.

"We will review the structures separately," she says. "For the purposes of this agreement, the board acknowledges that privately financed improvements may fall outside immediate trust claim."

May.

Not certainty.

But enough.

"One final point," Preston says. "This outcome will not serve as precedent. Any future attempt by another beneficiary to manipulate the marriage clause will result in immediate review without the same consideration."

"Understood."

She closes the folder.

"We're done."

Genevieve is waiting in the corridor.

Leaning against the wall with her portfolio tucked under one arm, watching us step out with an expression I can't read.

Christian speaks first. "You didn't exactly make this easy."

"Easy wasn't available."

"You let them threaten all eight of us."

"And then reminded them what it would cost to follow through." Her gaze shifts to me. "Which was the job."

Christian exhales through his nose.

She straightens.

"I don't work for you," she says. "I don't work for the board. I work for the trust your father built, and my job is to keep everyone inside the rails." A pause. "Including them."

I hold her gaze. She didn't have to step in. She could have let the board swing at all of us and called it compliance.

"Thank you," I say.

One brisk nod.

"Don't thank me. Don't make me do it again." Then, quieter: "And whatever you do next, do it cleanly. They'll be watching."

She turns and walks away without looking back.

Christian watches her go.

"She has five kids," he says.

I glance at him.

"She just made sure that when their turn comes, the system still has room in it."

I don't answer. Because he's right, and I don't have room in my chest for one more thing right now.