“Avery!” Callum yelled, leaning down to look through the gap. “You think you’ve won? This is a temporary injunction!”

“It is a freeze, Callum,” I said. “And the forensic accountants are already inside your offices.”

“You are stealing my father’s house,” he said, his knuckles turning white on the wet glass.

“Your father bought this house with my mother’s money,” I said. “It was never yours.”

A marshal grabbed Callum’s arm and pulled him back.

“Step away from the vehicle, Mr. Prescott,” the officer commanded.

Callum glared at me, his eyes wild.

On the front portico, a female deputy emerged from the double doors.

She carried a single suitcase and a small cardboard box.

She set them down on the wet stone steps.

“These are your approved personal items, Ms. Prescott,” the deputy told Vivian.

Vivian stared at the box.

“My jewelry is in the wall safe in the master bedroom,” she said.

“The safe is sealed,” the deputy replied. “It is subject to the court inventory.”

“This is ridiculous,” Vivian said, her voice trembling. “Where am I supposed to go?”

“I suggest a hotel,” the deputy said.