“He plays his part well, doesn’t he?” Marjorie said from behind me.

“The public loves a David and Goliath story,” she whispered.

“By tomorrow morning, the Hartwell name will be dragged through the mud.”

“Unless you sign.”

I turned slowly to face her.

My heart was pounding, but I kept my voice perfectly flat.

“Get out of my room, Marjorie,” I said.

She laughed, a short, dry sound that rattled in the quiet room.

“Think about it, Evelyn,” she said, walking toward the door.

“You have until eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“The records go to the judge, and the media gets the full story of your mental breakdown.”

She opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, leaving me alone with the silence.

I walked over to the crib and looked down at Maisie.

She was sleeping soundly, her tiny fist tucked against her cheek.

I sat back down at the desk and looked at the laptop.

The email from Sloane was still open.

I stared at the name of the Cayman Islands account on page four.

*Apex Meridian Holdings.*