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brass knob and entered.
    â€œWhat is it, Jewel?” Walter didn’t even look up from the sheaf of papers on his desk.
    Erica took a second to study him as he sat there. All of her life, she’d looked up to this man, tried to please him and wondered why she continually failed. His hair was thick and cut short, white mingling with the black now, and his navy blue suit fit him like a uniform. Which it was, she supposed, since she had rarely seen her father in anything but a suit and tie. That tie was power-red today and as he lifted his gaze to look at her, she saw his eyes narrow in question.
    â€œErica? What are you doing here?”
    Not exactly a warm greeting, but Walter never had cared for being interrupted at the office. “Hello, Father.”
    Openly frowning now, he asked, “Is there something wrong? Shouldn’t you be at work?”
    She watched his face, searching for some sign of warmth or pleasure, but there was nothing. So she walked across the floor, never taking her eyes from his. When she was standing opposite his desk, she said, “I had a visitor today. A lawyer from Colorado.”
    Walter jerked as if he’d been shot. Then he stiffened in his chair and set his sterling silver pen onto the desk top. His features went deliberately blank.
    â€œColorado?” He repeated the word without the slightest inflection in his voice.
    â€œDon’t,” Erica said, staring into those distant green eyes of his as she had her whole life, hoping to see love shining back at her. But again, she was disappointed. “Don’t pretend to not know what I’m talking about.”
    His eyes narrowed as he sat back in his chair and gave an impatient tug to his suit vest. “Young lady, don’t take that tone with me.”
    Erica almost laughed and would have if her heart wasn’t aching in her chest. She hadn’t heard that particular phrase from him since she was seventeen, and telling her father she was going to a concert with her friends. Of course, she hadn’t gone to the concert, since he’d refused permission and sent her to her room. She wasn’t a rebellious girl anymore though, fighting her own nerves and her father for the right to spread her wings. And she no longer needed his permission to do what she felt she had to do. She was all grown-up and she deserved some answers.
    â€œFather,” she said quietly, “the attorney told me some things. Things I need to talk to you about.”
    â€œI can imagine he did. But I’m not going to discuss this with you.” His jaw jutted out, his eyes narrowed and he silently dared her to continue.
    â€œI need to know, Father,” she said, doing just that. “I have the right to hear it from you. I have to know if everything he said was true.”
    â€œYou want to talk about rights? What about my rights to not have this distasteful matter resurrected?” he muttered, tapping his fingers against the desk in a nervous tattoo. “You’re Erica Prentice. My daughter, and by heaven, that should be enough for you.”
    God, she wished it were. She wanted it to be enough. But just looking at Walter’s face told her that there was so much more she needed to know. All her life, she’d loved this man. Wanted him to be proud of her. Had strived to be the best—at everything—just to win his approval.
    Now, she wanted him to tell her this was all a mistake. Some cruel trick. Yet even before she’d come here, she’d known it wasn’t. “Father, please. Talk to me. I don’t even know what to think about all of this.”
    He ground his teeth together, his jaw working furiously before he said, “That bastard Jarrod. This is all his fault. Even from the grave he tries to steal from me.”
    â€œWhat?” That was not the opening she’d been expecting.
    Walter pushed back from his desk and stood up. “He left orders in his will to contact