She looked directly at Evan, her eyes piercing.

“The forms that bear your wife’s name.”

Evan took a step back, his heel hitting the leg of one of the wine crates with a dull thud.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Evan stammered.

“Claire signed those,” Vivian insisted, her voice turning shrill as she pointed a finger at me.

“I saw the signature myself on the digital portal.”

“She approved the release of the 1982 Margaux and the 1961 Latour.”

Lydia didn’t look at Vivian; her eyes remained locked on Evan’s pale face.

“We have the forensic digital analysis of those portal logins,” Lydia said.

“The IP addresses don’t match Claire’s home or her office.”

“They match a router registered to this very apartment.”

Sloane gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she stared at Evan.

“You used my Wi-Fi to do this?” Sloane whispered.

“You did this here?”

Evan didn’t answer her, his chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths as he stared at the papers.

“The ledger also contains something else,” Lydia continued, her voice steady and merciless.