Either way, I laughed under my breath, unable to stop my derisive frustration. “Don’t pity her.”

Cole glanced away guiltily.

Jaz flicked me a cold look. “Don’t you dare speak on my behalf.”

I turned to face her, war ready to break out between us. I thought I’d find the courage to fight by sparring with Daniel or Cut. Not Jasmine. I’d hoped, woman to woman, we would rally together. I’d hoped she’d be on my side.

Stupid hope. Stupid, stupid dreams.

Marshall sent a fountain pen skittering toward me, breaking the strained standoff. “If you would be so kind to sign and initial the amendment, I’ll ensure it’s kept safe and on record.”

They hadn’t listened to a word I’d said. Once again, treating me as a clause to fix, an amendment to be filed.

For a split second, I was glad Jethro and Kes were dead.

They were free from this. Free from suffering more insanity.

My heart imploded on itself as Jethro took over my mind. His tinsel hair, golden eyes, and unbearable complexities.

He’s dead.

There was nothing else for me but to play their game until there was a winner and a loser.

I’ll be the winner.

I picked up the pen. With steady hands, I uncapped it and had a sudden daydream of breaking it in half and splashing ink all over the so-called contract.

My mind raced with thoughts of my mother. Had she sat in this exact chair and signed the previous amendment? Why had Cut become heir and what’d happened to his brother?

Did he kill that family member, too?

I glared at him.

Cut glared right back.

I wanted answers, but how would I get them?

The Weaver Journal?

Could the diary actually have anything worthwhile inside and not just brainwashing drivel that Cut wanted me to believe? I hadn’t bothered with it because every time I touched its pages, a sense of evil had warned me away.

Lies and misfortune and fraudulent deceit.

I’d suspected Kes gave it to me to keep me in line by reading about the adversity of my ancestors—striving to be better to avoid such things—but what if he gave it to me for another reason? What if he’d been trying to help me from day one?

Why didn’t I study the damn thing?

Because I’d been so wrapped up in Jethro. Falling in love, attending polo matches, and accepting horses as gifts.

God, I’m so stupid.

“Ms. Weaver.” Marshall slapped the table, wrenching me from my thoughts. “If you would be so kind…”

Jaz stiffened in her chair. “We don’t have all day, you know.” Ripping the page away from me, she snatched the fountain pen, and signed the bottom where her name and date waited.

Pushing me out of the way, she scooted the contract and pen to Daniel. “See, Nila? Wasn’t so hard.”

Daniel smirked. “Watch again how easy it is.” He signed with an unintelligible scrawl. “Signing your life away, literally. Kinda fun, isn’t it?” He placed the two items back in front of me. “Your turn.”

“I’m surprised you don’t expect me to sign in blood.”

Bonnie gave up being the silent matriarch and slid into a caustic temper. “For shit’s sake, you stupid girl. Be reasonable!”

The table froze.

My heart sprinted with hostility. She wanted to fight? I’d give her a damn fight. “I am being reasonable. You expect me to die for you. It would make sense to make me sign in blood—I’m sure you’d get a kick out of that, you witch.”

I smiled, glowing in resentment. In the course of one meeting, I’d called Jasmine a bitch and her grandmother a witch. Not bad considering my past of being shy and scared of confrontation. Even vertigo gave me a reprieve, keeping me levelheaded and strong.

Bonnie shot pink with fury. “Why you little—”

Marshall jumped in, waving his hands in a ceasefire. “We don’t expect it in blood. Ink will more than suffice.”

“And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t what?” Cole frowned.

“If I don’t sign it—like I’ve been saying since I got here. Then what?”

Marshall flicked a glance at Cut. His jaw worked as their eyes shot messages above my comprehension. Finally, he bowed his head. “Then a certain type of persuasion would be used.”

I laughed loudly. “Persuasion? Torture, you mean. I thought you had integrity to uphold. Didn’t you just say you had evidence that all documents were signed without—as you put it—persuasion?”

Marshall hunched. “Well…eh…in some cases—”

“Sign the bloody paperwork, you ingrate!” Bonnie stood up stiffly, her cane in hand.

“Nila, fucking—” Cut growled.

“Shut up! All of you.” Jaz suddenly wrapped her fingers around mine, pinching the pen into position. Dragging my hand over the paperwork, she muttered, “The things I fucking do.”

“Wait, what are you doing?” I struggled, but found out that she might not have use of her legs, but she had strength in her arms that I couldn’t fight.

“I’m putting an end to this. I’ve wasted too much time dealing with this as it is.” She forced the nib onto the paper.

“No, wait!”

Digging her fingernails into my hand, she directed the pen and printed a rudimentary name.

My name.

Signed and witnessed on the Debt Inheritance amendment.