It was too tight across the shoulders, the delicate seams strained.

“Vivian,” Harrison said, his voice cracking slightly before he recovered his tone.

“Darling, you are unwell. You should be in bed.”

“I have never been clearer in my life,” I said.

I began to walk down the grand staircase, one step at a time.

My hand gripped the mahogany banister.

The guests parted as I reached the bottom of the stairs.

Grace walked a few steps behind me, carrying her leather briefcase.

“The documents on that screen are real,” I said into the microphone.

“That is the power of attorney my husband used to access my mother’s estate.”

“It was signed three days after she died.”

A gasp ran through the room.

Beatrice stepped forward, her diamond necklace glittering under the chandeliers.

“Vivian, stop this childish display at once,” Beatrice said, her voice sharp.

“You are embarrassing yourself and this family.”

“This is my family’s house, Beatrice,” I said, looking her in the eye.

“And it is your family that is about to be exposed.”

I reached the stage and stepped up onto the platform.