“She will sign,” Conrad said. “Everyone has a price, Amelia.”

“Not Sienna,” I said. “Not anymore.”

I thought of Naomi’s legal offices downtown, where the paperwork was already being filed.

I thought of Lily, sitting upstairs in her playroom, oblivious to the storm.

The house felt heavy, like a tomb closing in on us.

“You think you can buy your way out of this?” Grant asked his father.

He grabbed a crystal decanter from the side table.

The amber liquid sloshed against the glass.

“Grant, put that down,” Antoinette said, her voice weak.

“He lied to me!” Grant screamed.

He threw the decanter against the brick fireplace.

It shattered into a hundred glittering shards, the smell of expensive scotch filling the room.

Antoinette screamed and covered her face with her hands.

Conrad did not even flinch.

He simply adjusted his cuffs and looked at the mess on the hearth.

“You are acting like a child,” Conrad said. “Which is exactly why I had to manage this myself.”

“I hate you,” Grant whispered.

The raw hatred in his voice was thick.