“They aren’t locking any doors,” he hissed. “I am a Ralston. My family has done business with that firm for thirty years.”

“Your mother’s name is on the family accounts, Graham, not yours,” I said.

That struck a nerve.

The muscles in his jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might crack.

“I am handling it,” he said.

He pushed past me, his shoulder clipping mine, and walked out the front door.

The heavy oak door clicked shut behind him.

I walked to the window and watched his black Mercedes back down the driveway.

He didn’t drive toward the gate; instead, he parked the car near the detached garage and stayed inside.

Through the windshield, I could see the glow of his cell phone screen illuminating his face.

I knew exactly what his financial situation looked like.

Through my holding company, I had purchased the debt on his office building three months ago.

I also knew he was six months behind on his office lease, and the landlord was done waiting.

I walked upstairs to check on Hazel and Ruby.