Sloane let out a sharp breath, her manicured fingers dropping from her face.

She looked at Evan, her eyes wide with sudden panic.

“There is a reply from you, Ms. Pierce,” Lydia continued, turning her gaze directly to Sloane.

“It was sent three minutes later, at 2:17 PM.”

“‘Make sure you get the 1982,'” Lydia read.

“‘She always bragged about that one. I want to see her face when we open it at dinner.'”

The silence in the dining room was heavy.

I watched Evan’s chest rise and fall rapidly beneath his linen shirt.

His hands were clenched into tight fists against the dark wood of the dining table.

“That is private correspondence,” Vivian said, her voice rising an octave as she stepped toward Lydia.

“You obtained those messages illegally, and I will have my lawyers sue you for harassment.”

“Actually, Mrs. Hayes, these messages were sent via the Hayes estate server,” Lydia replied calmly.

“The phone plan is registered under the family trust, which Claire now solely controls.”

“Every byte of data transmitted through those devices belongs to the estate.”