“We’ll secure the rest of the glasses as well,” Malcolm said, gesturing to a deputy waiting near the front door.

“We have the physical transfer of the property documented, and the unauthorized entry is logged.”

We walked out of the townhouse and into the cool evening air.

The streetlights were just turning on, casting long, orange shadows across the damp pavement.

I leaned against the passenger side of Lydia’s sedan, taking a deep breath of the clean air.

The weight in my chest felt slightly lighter, but the ache of betrayal remained.

“This is enough to freeze his access to the temporary estate allowance immediately,” Lydia said, joining me.

“The probate judge will sign the emergency order by nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“He will have nothing left to pay his lawyers with.”

“It’s not just about the money,” I said, looking down at my bare ring finger.

“I know,” Lydia said gently. “But it is the leverage we need to end this.”

She reached into her leather briefcase again and pulled out a thick, cream-colored envelope.