Chapter Forty-Nine: Evaluation

That was apparently Jules's breaking point.

She moved faster than I'd ever seen her move, crossing the room in two strides and slamming her hand down on the woman's tablet so hard the screen cracked.

"Let me explain something to you," Jules said, her voice low and deadly. "The woman you just insulted has survived multiple assassination attempts in the last forty-eight hours. She's been poisoned, pushed down a marble staircase, and held at gunpoint by someone trying to murder her unborn child. And through all of that, she's been more composed and intelligent than any of you overpaid vultures."

The lawyers stepped back instinctively, probably recognizing predator when they saw it.

"Furthermore," Jules continued, "she's sitting in this hospital room because she refused to leave the bedside of the woman who took a bullet protecting her. So before you start questioning her mental fitness, maybe you should question your own professional competence."

The thin lawyer tried to recover his composure. "We're simply following protocol—"

"Your protocol can kiss my ass," Jules snapped. "Along with your attitudes and your assumptions."

I stood up slowly, feeling every ache and bruise from the night's events, but also feeling something else rising in my chest. Not anger exactly, but a cold certainty that these people had just made a very big mistake.

"You're right," I said calmly. "I am disheveled. I am exhausted. I have been through trauma that would probably break most people."

The lawyers exchanged glances, probably thinking they'd won some kind of victory.

"But I'm still here," I continued. "I'm still standing. I'm still fighting. And I'm still the rightful heir to the Van Alston fortune, whether you like it or not."

The silver-haired woman looked up from her cracked tablet. "That remains to be seen. The Van Alston board requires extensive psychological and physical evaluations before—"

"Before what?" I asked. "Before you decide I'm worthy of what's already mine by blood?"

"Before we determine if you're mentally and physically fit to handle the responsibilities that come with such an inheritance," she replied coldly. "Someone who can't even maintain basic personal hygiene obviously isn't—"

"Ma'am," the guard by the door interrupted, his voice carrying warning. "I'd be very careful about how you speak to Mrs. Blackwood."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Mrs. Blackwood? As in Dominic Blackwood?"

"That's right," Jules said with a smile that promised violence. "The same Dominic Blackwood who could buy and sell your entire law firm with pocket change. The same Dominic Blackwood who's currently in a meeting deciding how to handle the people who've been trying to murder his wife."

The lawyers were starting to look less confident.

"Now," I said, settling back into my chair beside Victoria's bed, "you mentioned papers that need signing. What exactly are we talking about?"

The silver-haired woman cleared her throat, some of her earlier arrogance fading. "The Van Alston estate requires immediate attention. There are companies that need oversight, board meetings that require the heir's presence, financial decisions that can't wait."

"And you need me to sign something to make that happen?"

"You need to sign documents establishing your identity and competency as the heir," one of the quieter lawyers said. "But only if you pass the required evaluations."

"And if I don't pass these evaluations?"

The woman's smile was sharp as a blade. "Then the estate remains in trust until a suitable heir can be located or appointed."

Jules made a sound like a growling wolf. "In other words, you'd keep the money and power for yourselves while looking for someone more... manageable."

"We represent the best interests of the Van Alston legacy," the thin lawyer said primly.

"No," I said quietly. "You represent your own interests. And right now, those interests involve making sure I'm either controllable or gone."

The room fell silent except for the steady beeping of Victoria's monitors.

"Here's what's going to happen," I continued. "You're going to leave those papers with me. I'm going to review them with my own legal team. And then, when I'm ready—not when you decide I'm ready—we'll discuss what comes next."

"The evaluations are non-negotiable," the silver-haired woman said.

"Everything is negotiable," I replied. "Especially when you're talking to the woman who owns everything you work for."

The lawyers exchanged uncertain glances.

"We'll give you twenty-four hours to review the documents," the woman said finally. "But the evaluations must be completed within seventy-two hours, or the board will be forced to consider alternative arrangements."

"Get out," Jules said pleasantly. "Now."

They filed out of the room like scolded children, their earlier arrogance replaced by the kind of uncertainty that came from realizing they'd underestimated their opponent.

After they left, Jules turned to me with a grin. "Well, that was fun."

"They're going to be a problem," I said.

"Probably. But you handled them perfectly."

I looked down at Victoria, wishing desperately that she was awake to guide me through whatever legal labyrinth I was about to enter.

The papers the lawyers had left behind sat on the bedside table like a ticking bomb.

Whatever was in those documents, I had a feeling it was going to change everything.

Again.