“I watched you ignore your daughters to spend weekends on yachts with clients you couldn’t afford.”

“I was building relationships!” he cried out.

“For the family!”

“You were building a fantasy,” I said.

“And now the fantasy is over.”

My phone buzzed again in my hand.

I looked down.

It was an email from my family law attorney, Eleanor Vance.

The subject line read: *Emergency Custody Filing – Draft Attached.*

I didn’t open it yet.

I kept my eyes on Graham.

“You don’t understand,” he said, standing up again.

He took a desperate step toward me.

“The Ralston name means everything in this city.”

“If we fall, the girls fall with us.”

“They won’t fall,” I said.

“They have me.”

“They have a mother who actually owns the roof over their heads.”

“You can’t do this alone,” he pleaded.

“The courts will see this as a vindictive move.”

“They will give me joint custody.”

“I will tie you up in litigation for years.”

“You don’t have the money for a lawyer, Graham,” I said softly.

“Your credit cards were declined this morning at the country club.”