“It was going to waste in that cellar,” Evan said, trying to take a step toward me.

“You didn’t even care about it.”

“It wasn’t yours to sell,” I said.

Malcolm pulled out his radio and called for backup.

“We are going to need transport,” Malcolm said into the receiver.

“Three individuals detained at the Pierce site.”

Sloane looked at her phone, her fingers flying across the screen.

“My lawyers will have this thrown out before morning,” she said.

“I doubt that,” Lydia’s voice came from behind us.

My attorney walked up the ramp, holding a large umbrella over her head.

She carried a thick leather briefcase under her arm.

“The probate judge signed a temporary restraining order an hour ago, Sloane,” Lydia said.

“All assets linked to Pierce Logistics are frozen pending the audit.”

Evan looked at Sloane, then at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Claire, please,” he said, his voice dropping to a plea.

“We can talk about this.”

“We will talk in court,” I said.

The courthouse was quiet three days later.

The wood-paneled walls of the probate courtroom felt small and suffocating.