She walked over to the kitchen counter and picked up her car keys.

“I’m not going to jail for you, Evan.”

“I’m not losing my house.”

She looked at Lydia.

“If I tell you everything, what happens to me?”

“Sloane!” Evan shouted.

He took a step toward her, but Malcolm moved instantly, placing his hand on his holster.

“Stand down, Mr. Hayes,” Malcolm said.

The room was dead silent except for the hum of the refrigerator.

I watched the panic rise in Sloane’s eyes.

The alliance they had built on my betrayal was crumbling in front of me.

“We can talk in the kitchen, Ms. Pierce,” Lydia said, her voice smooth and professional.

“Let’s discuss what you know.”

Sloane nodded quickly, her breath coming in short gasps.

She didn’t look at Evan as she led Lydia toward the back of the house.

Evan stood in the center of the dining room.

The bottle of 1982 Lafite sat on the table between us, a monument to his greed.

I reached out and picked up the bottle.

The glass was freezing cold in my hand.