Mia's heart pounded as she followed Harry and Eleanor into the study. The afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows highlighted the newspaper clippings scattered across Eleanor's desk like evidence at a crime scene.

"Sit down, Harry," Eleanor commanded, pointing to the leather chair across from her desk. Her voice was cold, her face a mask of disapproval.

Harry remained standing. "Whatever you have to say, Mother, you can say it with Mia present."

Eleanor's eyes narrowed. "Fine. Stand ...