“The default clause was triggered the moment Grant signed the fraudulent lease agreements with Blaire’s shell company,” I said.

“That was a separate corporate matter,” she stammered.

“The Darrow House deed was cross-collateralized with the hospitality group’s main credit line,” Lena explained from the stairs.

Margaret’s face drained of color, leaving her skin looking like dry parchment.

“Yesterday afternoon, Whitaker Family Capital executed the transfer,” I said. “The foreclosure is complete.”

She dropped her hand, the paper she was holding fluttering to the marble floor.

“You don’t own this house, Margaret,” I said softly. “I do.”

She stared at me, her lips parted in disbelief.

“You can’t do this,” she said. “This is my home.”

“It was your home,” I said. “Now, it is an asset on my balance sheet.”

Outside, the wind whipped the rain against the heavy leaded glass of the front door.

Margaret looked around the grand foyer as if seeing it for the first time, her authority evaporating.

“Where is Grant?” she asked suddenly, her voice rising. “He promised me this was handled.”