“I am not casting you out, Maria,” he said, his voice firm and steady.

“You don’t know what Richard is capable of,” I whispered.

“This is my house,” Ethan said. “My father left it to me, and I decide who stays.”

He walked back to the desk and picked up the black leather binder.

He flipped past the pages of handwritten numbers to the Swiss bank document.

“These numbers,” Ethan said, tracing a column with his thumb. “These are monthly deposits.”

“Deposits for what?” I asked.

“My father set up a trust fund,” Ethan said, squinting at the fine print. “Actually, three separate funds.”

He turned the page to show me a document with my name printed at the top.

“One for you, one for your grandmother Evelyn, and a larger one for Lily,” he said.

I stared at the paper, my eyes blurring as I tried to read the foreign bank codes.

“But we never received any money,” I said. “We have lived on my maid’s salary for three years.”

“That is because the accounts are frozen,” Ethan said. “They require a specific verification to be released.”