ELIJAH'S POV
The lawyer's voice droned on, but I barely heard him. I sat there, staring at the polished table, my fingers tapping against the armrest of my chair as he went over the formalities, minor details about the estate, charitable donations—none of which mattered to me.
This was supposed to be the moment I took control. The moment I finally stepped into my father's shoes and became the man I was meant to be. The man I had been raised to be.
But when the lawyer started to get to the real part, to the division of the estate, something shifted. Because I couldn't conceptualize why Imogen would be here. I could feel it. My stomach knotted, and a strange sense of unease crept over me.
"To my wife, Lana Rossi," the lawyer said, "I leave the family estate, as well as 5 percent of my company shares. This is to ensure that she continues to live comfortably and maintain the lifestyle we have built together."
