“We need to call a recess to consult with independent counsel.”

“There is no time for a recess,” Grace said.

“The federal marshals are downstairs.”

“They have a warrant for Adrian Whitmore’s arrest.”

“And for Celeste Vale.”

Celeste let out a sharp cry.

She looked at the door, but two federal marshals in dark suits were already walking in.

They bypassed the security guards.

“Adrian Whitmore?” the lead marshal asked.

Adrian did not move.

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of rage and disbelief.

“Vivian, please,” he whispered.

“Think of the family name.”

“I am thinking of the family name,” I said.

“My daughter’s name.”

The marshal stepped forward and placed his hand on Adrian’s arm.

“Sir, you need to come with us.”

They slid handcuffs onto his wrists.

The metallic click sounded incredibly loud in the silent room.

Celeste began to cry, backing away toward the window.

The second marshal approached her and read her her rights.

She did not fight them as they led her out.

She just stared at the floor, her expensive silk dress suddenly looking very ordinary.