“Thomas is a weak, cowardly fool,” she said.

“His word means nothing in a court of law.”

“We have the original trust documents, Margaret,” I said.

“We know about the forged signatures.”

She stared at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly under her fur coat.

She realized, in that moment, that the walls were finally closing in.

But instead of pleading or breaking down, her expression hardened into something desperate and dangerous.

She reached into her designer handbag.

My heart skipped a beat, thinking she might have a weapon.

Instead, she pulled out a sleek, gold-plated smartphone.

She tapped the screen rapidly.

“You think you’ve won,” Margaret said, her voice shaking with a terrifying, quiet rage.

“But you have nothing.”

“By the time the police get here, there won’t be a single dollar left in any account you can touch.”

She looked up at me, a cruel, triumphant smile stretching across her face.

“I’ve already initiated the transfers,” she whispered.

Just then, the phone in Richard’s pocket began to ring, the tone sharp and loud in the quiet foyer.