Mark glared up at her from the floor, his jaw clenched so hard his muscles twitched.

“That document is invalid,” Mark spat, his voice low and venomous. “Alana was under duress. Any lawyer can throw that out of court in five minutes.”

Ana smiled, a cold, professional expression that didn’t reach her eyes.

“The document she signed wasn’t the deed transfer you drafted, Mark,” Ana said.

She held up the tablet, showing a PDF with a red seal from the California Department of Justice.

“It was a formal waiver of confidentiality for the Darcy estate’s historical financial audits,” Ana explained.

Yasmin looked up from the floor, her eyes wide with sudden, silent terror.

“What does that mean?” Gillian whimpered, clutching her mother’s trembling arm.

“It means,” Ana said, looking down at Yasmin, “that the moment Alana signed, she authorized the immediate release of twenty years of sealed tax records.”

She paused, letting the heavy silence fill the room.

“The records show exactly how you, Mark, and Yasmin systematically embezzled millions from Abigail’s trust,” Ana said.

“That is a lie,” Mark said, though his voice lacked its previous strength.