I reached into my bag and pulled out a printed copy of the agreement I had received the night before.

“Sloane’s personal IP address is logged on the draft three days before you and I had our first date,” I said.

Marjorie shifted in her chair, her heavy gold bangles clinking loudly in the silent room.

“This is ridiculous,” Marjorie muttered under her breath. “Nolan, we don’t have to listen to this nonsense.”

“Be quiet, Mother,” Nolan snapped, his composure finally cracking.

He stared at the printout, then looked up at me, his eyes narrowing into cold slits.

“You always did think you were smarter than everyone else, Evelyn,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “But you were unstable. Everyone knew it.”

“I was smart enough to keep my workshop restoration logs,” I said. “And the digital backups of our home security system.”

“What does that have to do with the trust?” Nolan’s lawyer asked, interjecting quickly.

“For eight months, you told me I was misplacing my car keys,” I said directly to Nolan. “You told me I forgot to pay the nanny. You told my father I was too depressed to leave the nursery.”