My eyes scanned the bold, black lettering at the top of the document.

It was an emergency injunction.

Every single one of our joint bank accounts, investment portfolios, and corporate holdings was frozen.

“Effective immediately,” I read aloud, my voice barely a whisper in the quiet lobby.

Daniel nodded slowly, his hands clasped in front of his tailored suit.

“My contact at the firm delivered it to the service entrance ten minutes ago,” Daniel said.

“Thank you, Daniel,” I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

“I think I do, Mrs. Hayes,” he replied, his voice calm and reassuring.

I turned the page.

Underneath the financial freeze sat a second document, printed on heavy blue paper.

It was an eviction petition for the Fifth Avenue penthouse, signed by a judge at four o’clock this afternoon.

Preston had twenty-four hours to vacate the property.

The home my grandfather had built, the one Preston had slowly tried to claw away from my family, was officially off-limits to him.

“He won’t know what hit him,” I said, tucking the papers back into the manila folder.