"Okay." He turns to look at me, and I can see him cataloging my reaction. Then he looks back at his assistant. "We'll be right there."
He closes the door and turns back to me.
"Do you have any idea what this could be about?"
I shake my head slowly, my mind racing through possibilities, each one worse than the last. I come up empty, though. Lawyers looking for me, using both names, the one my mother gave me and the one tied to Cormac.
"Should I be nervous?" I ask.
"No," Callum says, and walks over to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. "It's lawyers, not the police. Come on, let's go. If it goes south, I'll stop it, and they can contact our legal team."
I nod, not trusting my voice.
Callum takes my hand and leads me out of the office. The walk to Conference Room B feels endless. Every step brings a new wave of anxiety, a new question I can't answer.
Who would be looking for Zaria Quinn?
Who even remembers she exists?
41
ZARIA
The conference room smells like fresh coffee and expensive cologne.
I sit beside Callum, my hands folded in my lap to keep them from shaking.
Across from us, two lawyers in matching gray suits sit with briefcases open and documents piled around them in neat little stacks. The older one, a man with silver hair and thin-rimmed glasses, introduces himself as Edward Harrington. The younger woman beside him is Claire Dalton.
"Ms. Quinn," Edward begins, removing his glasses. "Or do you go by Ms. Donoghue?"
I swallow hard. "Quinn. I go by Quinn."
"Of course," he says and pulls a file folder closer. "You have no idea how difficult it's been to locate you."
"I've been a bit unavailable." The understatement of the century.
Claire taps something on her tablet. "We searched under both names, prior addresses, which we could only find one in Idaho,and the people at Shadowharbor weren't very helpful," she says, looking up at me. "Eventually, however, through some rather creative investigative work, we established a connection between you and Mr. Killaney here," she says, glancing at Callum, "and that made things considerably easier."
"You seem to be going through a lot of trouble to find her," Callum says.
"Well, yes," Edward says. "Given the complexity of the estate in question, we had no choice but to find her."
"Estate?" I ask, my fingers curling against my thighs under the table. "What is this about?"
Edward exchanges a look with Claire before clearing his throat. "We represent the estate of Cormac Donoghue."
Callum's hand finds my knee under the table and he rubs my leg to stop it from shaking.
"Cormac is dead," Callum says.
"Yes," Edward says. "Which is precisely why we're here. Mr. Donoghue's death has triggered the execution of his estate. Or rather…" He pauses, shuffling through papers. "The lack thereof."
"The lack thereof?" I ask.
Claire leans forward. "Mr. Donoghue did not leave a traditional will. No documented succession plan for Shadowharbor or his business holdings. No designated heirs, no charitable bequests. Nothing."
I don't understand. Cormac was obsessive about control. The idea that he wouldn't have planned for his death seems impossible.
