She looked at Graham, and for the first time, I saw no affection in her eyes, only a cold realization.

“You don’t have any money, do you?” Sloane asked him.

Graham flinched as if she had struck him.

“Sloane, shut up,” Graham hissed.

“The townhouse in the city, the partnership at the firm, the investments,” Sloane said, counting them off on her fingers. “None of it is yours.”

“It belongs to the family,” Graham said defensively.

“It belongs to Evelyn,” Sloane said.

She looked at me, then at Julian, who stood quietly beside me with his briefcase.

“He told me the divorce was a formality,” Sloane said to Julian. “He told me the estate was his, and that Evelyn was merely a caretaker.”

“My client owns the estate in its entirety,” Julian said, his tone professional and calm. “As well as the family trusts.”

Sloane took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling under her damp trench coat.

“He’s broke,” Sloane said, almost to herself. “He’s been using my name on the shell companies because his own credit is ruined.”