“We are going to my lawyer,” she told Martin.

“Claire, wait,” Martin said, struggling to stand up from the chair.

“Move, Dad,” she snapped at him.

She looked back at my father one last time, her teeth clenched.

“I’ll see you at the office,” she said.

“And you will sign over what is mine, or I will ruin you.”

She stormed out of the room, her high heels clicking loudly on the hardwood floor.

Martin hurried after her, looking like a broken man.

The heavy oak front door slammed shut, shaking the walls of the house.

I looked at my father.

He looked older than he had ten minutes ago, his shoulders tense under his worn jacket.

“Are you okay, Dad?” I asked, putting a hand on his arm.

He took a deep breath and nodded.

“I’m fine, Sophie,” he said.

“Just tired.”

“Ethan is still on the line,” I reminded him.

He raised the phone back to his ear.

“Ethan,” he said.

“Are the security guards in place at the headquarters?”

“Yes, sir,” Ethan said.

“I’ve personally briefed them. If Martin or Claire show up, they won’t get past the lobby.”