“Mom, she’s lying,” Mia whispered, her eyes wide with fear.

“Of course she is,” I said, keeping my voice level.

“But she has a public relations firm at her disposal,” Samantha said with a cruel, tight smile.

“And I have journalists who owe me favors.”

She tapped the screen of her phone, her manicured nail making a sharp clicking sound against the glass.

“A story about a hysterical wife trying to ruin her husband’s corporate legacy makes for excellent press,” Samantha added.

“Especially when we provide medical records of your postpartum depression from seventeen years ago.”

My breath hitched in my throat, the room suddenly feeling very small.

“Those are private medical records,” I said, my voice dropping an octave.

“They are confidential.”

“Everything has a price, Claire,” Samantha said.

She looked at Preston, who was beginning to smile again.

The fear in his eyes was replaced by a dark, calculating gleam of victory.

“She’s right,” Preston said, straightening his silk tie.

“You’ve always been fragile, Claire.”

“The court will see that you are unfit to make financial decisions for our family.”