Miranda stopped at the door, turning back to look at the crowd.

“This is a lie,” she said, her voice cracking.

“A conspiracy to steal my family’s legacy.”

“The documents are already at the federal building, Miranda,” Nathaniel Vale said.

“The transfer of the estate was fraudulent.”

“The courts will decide that,” Vance said, opening the door wider.

The cold air rushed in, blowing Miranda’s styled hair across her face.

The reporters outside surged forward, their microphones raised.

“Mrs. Sterling! Is it true you falsified the trust?”

“Julian! Is the Sterling Group facing bankruptcy?”

“Who is the woman in the maid’s uniform?”

The questions pelted us like rain.

The agents guided Miranda through the threshold.

The flashbulbs were blinding, reflecting off the wet pavement of the driveway.

I watched as they opened the back door of the black sedan.

Miranda hesitated for a brief second, looking back at the grand mansion.

Then, she got in.

The door closed with a solid, heavy thud.

The car began to pull away, its tires crunching on the gravel.

The crowd in the foyer was completely silent now.