“Our cards are declined,” Vivian said, her face pale. “Every single one of them.”

“Then I suggest you find a friend,” I said, rolling the window down a bit further.

Vivian looked at me, her eyes filled with cold hatred. “You ungrateful little girl.”

“I am the executor of my mother’s estate, Vivian,” I said. “And you are a trespasser.”

The deputy locked the massive front doors.

He placed a bright red federal seal over the keyhole.

*PROPERTY UNDER COURT CUSTODY.*

The letters were bold and black.

Callum stared at the seal, his mouth slightly open.

The rain was coming down harder now, washing the mud across his expensive leather shoes.

“We will go to the office,” Callum told his mother, his voice shaking. “We can stay at the penthouse.”

“The penthouse is owned by the same trust, Callum,” Arthur called out from the driver’s seat.

Callum’s head snapped toward Arthur.

“You backstabbing old bastard,” Callum spat.

“I was loyal to your father, Callum,” Arthur said. “But he would be disgusted by what you did to this family.”

A black sedan drove up the driveway, stopping behind the marshal’s car.