“Keep your distance, sir,” Malcolm said.

Sloane shrank back against the kitchen doorframe.

“He said his business was going under,” Sloane said, the words spilling out of her. “He said the creditors were going to take everything.”

“Which business, Ms. Pierce?” Lydia asked.

“Hayes Logistics,” Sloane said. “He owed over two million dollars to vendors.”

“That’s a lie,” Evan spit out, though his sweating forehead suggested otherwise.

“It isn’t a lie,” Sloane cried. “He showed me the bank notices.”

I watched her, feeling nothing but a dull, cold anger.

“He told me the wine cellar was the easiest way to get quick cash,” Sloane continued.

“How did you get the key?” I asked.

Sloane looked at me, her eyes wide with fear and guilt.

“He took it from your desk drawer while you were asleep, Claire,” she whispered.

I clenched my jaw, the memory of his late-night visits to my study flashing through my mind.

“And the inventory?” Lydia asked.

“He had Cole change the records,” Sloane said, gesturing to the silent wine merchant.

Cole Brantley sank into one of the dining chairs, deflating.