She clicked through a ledger of bank transactions.

“The trust account was emptied over the course of six months,” Nora said. “The funds were moved in increments of five hundred thousand dollars.”

“Where did they go?” Richard asked.

“Directly into the accounts of the Whitmore Foundation,” Nora said. “The charity Margaret uses to secure her social standing in Greenwich.”

“She bought her reputation with my husband’s money,” I said.

“Yes,” Nora said. “And she used your townhouse to secure a commercial loan for the foundation’s new arts wing.”

Richard walked over to the window, looking out at the darkened driveway.

The rain had stopped, but the trees were still dripping water onto the gravel below.

“We have them,” Richard said, turning back to face us.

“We have the evidence,” Nora agreed. “But we have to play this perfectly. Thomas Vale has connections in the local courts.”

“What is the first step?” Richard asked.

“I need to draft emergency legal injunctions,” Nora said. “We need to go to a federal judge, bypass the local probate court entirely.”

“Why federal?” I asked.