“The wine belonged to the estate,” Evan said, his voice rising as he tried to find his footing. “As your husband, I had the legal authority to manage those assets.”

“You had no such authority, Evan,” Lydia said, opening her briefcase on the edge of the dining table.

“It was a joint decision,” Evan lied, looking directly at Malcolm. “Claire knew we needed the liquidity. She agreed to liquidate a portion of the cellar to cover the estate taxes.”

“I never signed a single authorization,” I said.

“Yes, you did,” Evan insisted, his eyes hardening. “You signed the consignment agreements at my office. You probably just don’t remember.”

He looked at Malcolm, offering a tight, patronizing smile.

“My wife has been under an immense amount of stress since her father passed,” Evan said. “Her memory hasn’t been reliable.”

Vivian nodded quickly in agreement. “It’s true. Claire has been very fragile. She forgets things constantly.”

Sloane stood by the sideboard, her face pale, looking between Evan and the box of wine she had just brought in.

Lydia did not blink.