“We did,” Blake said, his voice deadly quiet. “But now we’re settling yours.”

Helena set her wine glass down on the marble coffee table.

The crystal clinked against the stone, a sharp, clean sound in the quiet room.

“I don’t appreciate the tone, Blake,” she said.

“And I don’t appreciate five years of lies,” Blake said.

He tossed the folder onto the coffee table.

It slid across the polished surface, stopping right in front of her.

Helena didn’t look at it.

“I don’t know what fairy tales Emma has been spinning you,” Helena said. “But she is a thief and a liar.”

“Open it, Mother,” Blake said.

The word *Mother* sounded cold, stripped of any warmth.

Helena hesitated, her gaze moving from Blake to me.

She reached down and opened the folder.

I watched her face as her eyes moved across the Swiss bank documents.

A tiny muscle in her jaw twitched.

But she didn’t lose her composure.

She closed the folder and looked up.

“This is a forgery,” she said smoothly. “Obviously.”

“The audio files aren’t forgeries,” Blake said.

He took out his phone and pressed a button.