“My husband and I have resources, Wyatt,” she said, her voice dripping with ice.

“Your personal bank accounts were frozen by the probate court yesterday morning,” Wyatt said.

My mother’s eyes narrowed, but her expression remained perfectly controlled.

“The court froze our personal accounts, yes,” she said. “But they did not freeze the family trust.”

My heart stopped for a beat.

“The Davis trust is restricted,” I said, my voice rising. “You cannot withdraw money from that account without my signature.”

“Evidently, the bank’s automated emergency system disagreed,” my mother replied.

She took the paper receipt from the clerk and tucked it away.

“It was processed as an emergency capital call,” she added, looking directly at me. “Perfectly legal in their eyes, for now.”

“That is trust abuse,” Wyatt said, his hand tightening into a fist. “That money belongs to Sadie’s grandmother’s estate.”

“Then sue us,” my mother whispered.

She turned and walked toward the exit, her heels clicking sharply on the terrazzo floor.

Her lawyer followed her, his leather shoes silent on the tiles.

I leaned against Wyatt, the anger rising hot in my throat.