I walked back downstairs, my knees trembling slightly from exhaustion.

I found Richard in his study, sitting behind a large mahogany desk.

The room was filled with books, and a fire crackled quietly in the hearth.

He looked up as I entered and gestured to a leather armchair opposite him.

“They are asleep,” I said, sitting down.

“Good,” he said. “You look like you are about to collapse, Emily.”

“I can’t sleep yet,” I said. “Not while Margaret is still out there. She won’t stop.”

Richard leaned forward, crossing his forearms on the desk.

“Tell me why she has so much leverage over you, Emily. Why did you stay?”

I looked down at my hands, tracing the seam of my worn jeans.

“It was Michael’s debts,” I said softly. “My late husband.”

“What debts?” Richard asked.

“After he died, everything fell apart,” I explained. “Thomas Vale, the family lawyer, came to my house. He showed me the paperwork.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Thomas Vale. The Whitmore family attorney.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “He told me Michael had taken out millions in bad business loans. He said Michael signed over our house, our savings, everything, as collateral to Margaret’s trust.”