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“So where does that leave me?”

“The clause.”

“The ‘known children’ thing.”

“Known biological offspring,” he says, and taps the paper again. “Which is helpful.”

“That’s the first good word you’ve used.”

“It’s helpful, but Paul’s side is arguing it’s boilerplate. Basically language that’s thrown in to prevent challenges from unknown heirs. Precautionary.”

“Except I’m not unknown.”

“To Renny, maybe not. And that’s our argument.”

“And their argument is?”

“The will has been revised and updated over decades, and pretty much everything in it points to Paul as beneficiary. Lots of Paul, zero Clint.”

I stare at him.

He holds up a hand. “I’m not saying I like it. I’m saying that’s what they’re going to say.”

“They’ve already said it?”

“More or less.”

Of course they have.

Paul Benton, standing under that pergola with his wrinkleless shirt and sad eyes, telling me I deserved better. Then turning around and letting his lawyer explain how I don’t even really exist.

Heat moves up the back of my neck.

Kev notices and starts talking faster.

“Where there may be leverage is the businesses.”

“The bar?”

Kev nods. “The Man Cave. The Riverview complex is prime for redevelopment. There’s also a property in Mexico, but I don’t know yet how that’s held or what Mexican law does to this, and frankly, I do not want to pretend I do.”

“Refreshing.” I drink my water. “So what do we do?”

“If the clause applies broadly, and if we can establish Renny intended for you to receive a meaningful share, then we can pressure for valuation. Maybe liquidation. Maybe a buyout.”

“That’s a lot of maybes.”

“Yeah.”

“How much money?”

Kev looks down at the papers, flips a few like he knows what he’s looking for.

“Potentially big,” he says.

“Big like a monster truck, or big like a private jet?”

“Depends how much debt is attached, but if the whole operation were liquidated and profits split? Somewhere in between.”