She closed the door behind her, the lock clicking softly in the quiet house.

“Actually, it isn’t,” I said, tapping the leather ledger. “Not anymore.”

Marjorie looked at the book, her expression hardening for a fraction of a second.

Then, she smiled, a thin, humorless line.

“We need to have a conversation, Evelyn,” she said, taking a step closer to the desk.

“I don’t think we have anything to talk about,” I said, closing the cover of the ledger. “Julian is taking this straight to the authorities.”

“You could do that,” Marjorie said, her voice dropping to a low, soothing purr. “But you won’t.”

She stopped at the edge of the desk, looking down at me with an icy calm.

“If you expose this, you ruin the Caldwell name forever,” she said.

“The public won’t care about the legalities. They will only see the scandal.”

“I don’t care about the scandal,” I said. “I care about justice.”

“Do you?” Marjorie asked, tilting her head.

She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small, folded document.

“This is a signed divorce agreement,” she said, placing it on the desk.