Marcus went entirely pale, his skin taking on the gray hue of the river fog outside.

“You can’t do that,” Marcus whispered, his hand shaking as he reached for the back of a nearby chair. “We had an agreement.”

“The agreement was based on legal transactions, Marcus,” Warren said, his voice sharpening slightly. “You lied to me about the signatures on the north ridge deeds.”

“That’s a lie!” Marcus shouted, looking around the room as if seeking an escape route.

“I have already given the county investigators the digital signatures and the email correspondence,” Warren continued, ignoring the outburst.

“I will testify that you forced the transfer of the cemetery lot under threat of exposing my firm’s older liabilities.”

Lydia nodded slowly, her expression unchanged, as if she had expected this exact outcome all along.

“The formal plea deal is being processed now,” she said to the room.

Outside, the man in the trench coat finally walked up the front steps of Mercer House.

He knocked three times on the thick wood of the door, the sound echoing through the high-ceilinged hallway.