“Where is she?” I asked.

“They took her into custody at her home in Beacon Hill,” Arthur said. “Dr. Mercer surrendered himself at the precinct.”

I felt a sudden, hollow ache in my chest.

Eleanor Whitmore, the matriarch who had controlled every aspect of my life, was in a holding cell.

“And Celeste?” I asked.

“She’s at the penthouse,” Arthur said. “But she knows the board is meeting at nine tomorrow morning.”

Maren stepped out onto the porch behind me, wrapping her arms around herself.

Arthur looked at her and gave a polite, tired nod.

“She has to sign the settlement, Adrian,” Arthur added. “Before the board strips her of everything.”

“I’m coming to Boston,” I said.

Maren touched my arm, her fingers gentle but firm.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“I have to finish this, Maren,” I said, turning to look at her. “For all of us.”

She looked into my eyes for a long moment, then nodded.

“We’ll be here,” she said quietly.

***

The boardroom of Whitmore Holdings sat on the forty-second floor, overlooking a gray, rain-slicked Boston harbor.