He looked incredibly pale under the recessed lighting of the dining room.

“You’re bluffing,” Evan said.

“That video doesn’t prove we took anything from the house.”

“We were securing the property.”

“As your husband, I have a duty to protect the estate assets from neglect.”

Malcolm stepped into the room, his uniform crisp and imposing.

“Mr. Hayes,” Malcolm said.

“The probate judge sealed that house yesterday at noon.”

“Nobody was permitted inside without a court representative.”

“You broke the seal.”

“You smashed the glass on the rear pantry door to gain entry.”

“And we have the security log showing the safe in the study was opened thirty minutes later.”

Sloane stopped pacing by the fireplace.

Her gaze darted from Malcolm’s badge to Evan’s face.

“What is he talking about, Evan?” she asked.

Her voice was thin, losing its usual icy composure.

“You said you had the keys.”

“You said the lawyers gave you written permission to retrieve your personal papers.”

Evan glared at her.

“Shut up, Sloane,” he snapped.

“Don’t say a word.”

I walked over to the dining table.