“The lining of that dress contained the actual records of the trust assets.”

“You knew those records existed, which is why you tried to destroy the dress.”

“But Sloane wore it tonight, and everyone saw the truth.”

The sound of multiple boots echoing on the hardwood stairs signaled the arrival of the police.

Three officers in dark uniforms entered the study, led by a tall detective.

“Vivian Bennett?” the detective asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“I am the owner of Aster Hall.”

The detective turned to Harrison and Beatrice.

“Harrison Ashford and Beatrice Ashford, you are under arrest for grand larceny, financial fraud, and conspiracy,” he said.

An officer stepped forward, pulling handcuffs from his belt.

Harrison backed away, his heel catching on the edge of the Persian rug.

“This is a mistake!” Harrison shouted.

“My wife is sick! She is hallucinating all of this!”

The officer grabbed Harrison’s arm and pulled it behind his back.

The metal handcuffs clicked shut around his wrists.

Harrison looked at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of anger and fear.

“Vivian, please,” he muttered.

“We can talk about this.”