"Do not open it, Elara."
Victor's voice tears through the speaker, thin and rough, and the whole room freezes. I keep my hand on the blue file and look at Nathaniel's phone like I can pull Victor through it and force him to finally stop hiding behind timing.
"Which mother?" I ask.
That lands harder than I expect.
Victor is quiet for one beat too long. Then he says, "The woman who raised you. Wait for me."
Mary.
Not my dead mother. Mary.
Across the room, Elias goes pale in a way that has nothing to do with shock and everything to do with old hurt waking up too fast. Richard folds his hands and says very calmly, "He is buying time."
Nathaniel does not even look at him. "And you are afraid of paper. That tells me enough."
The chairman clears his throat from the far end of the table.
