The Lancaster Estate — Private Conference Room.
Damian leaned forward, elbows on the glass table, fingers steepled under his chin.
"Do you all understand what we're dealing with?" he said. "Because I'm not sure you do."
Eleanor Lancaster didn't look up. She was checking her phone, her lips pursed in that familiar way that meant she was bored or annoyed—or both.
Raymond sat sideways in his chair, leg bouncing, the buttons on his shirt mismatched and his cufflink missing. Probably hungover. Again.
Eleanor spoke first. "We've filed the suit. Public opinion is neutral. Nothing's changed."
Damian's voice was tight. "Exactly. Nothing's moving. And every damn day we wait, that money disappears further into the wind."
Eleanor finally looked up. "We're not getting that money, Damian. You know it. Saito is three steps ahead. He filed every document. We can't even prove they're fake."
