“You can call your mother,” I said. “Or Karen. They seem very interested in your living arrangements.”

Brent’s face twisted in anger.

“They don’t have room for me,” he muttered.

“That is not my concern,” I said.

He looked at the white envelope in his hand, then ripped it open, tearing the paper in his haste.

He flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the legal jargon.

“This says I have to stay a hundred yards away from you,” he said.

“And from Ivy,” I added.

“You’re keeping me from my daughter?” he hissed, taking a step toward me.

Jennifer immediately stepped between us, her briefcase held like a shield.

“Mr. Sterling, I suggest you stay exactly where you are,” Jennifer said.

“This is crazy,” Brent said, his voice rising in panic. “Molly did this. She’s the one who put these ideas in your head.”

“Molly had nothing to do with your financial fraud, Brent,” I said.

“She’s always hated me,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s been trying to get between us since the day we met.”

He stared at me, his eyes bright with a desperate kind of calculation.