Conrad sat in his high-backed leather chair by the cold fireplace, staring blankly at the floor.

Antoinette was pacing back and forth, her cell phone pressed tightly to her ear.

“What do you mean he was arrested?” Antoinette hissed into the phone. “He was supposed to bring her to me.”

She stopped pacing when she noticed me standing in the doorway.

She slowly lowered the phone, her face pale, her perfectly styled hair slightly disheveled.

“Amelia,” Antoinette said, her voice cold and dripping with venom. “What are you doing here?”

Grant turned around, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused.

“Amelia,” he stammered, taking a step toward me. “Please. Tell me you didn’t do this.”

“It’s over, Grant,” I said, keeping my voice calm and steady.

“You ruined us,” Antoinette said, her voice rising as she stepped closer to me. “Thirty years of building this family’s name, and you dragged it through the mud.”

“You did that to yourselves,” I said, looking from her to Conrad. “You buried the truth, and you paid people to stay silent.”

Conrad did not look up from the floor.