“What is the meaning of this?” Vivian demanded, stepping forward to block me from the guests. “You shouldn’t be here, Evelyn. You’re unstable.”

“I am exactly where I belong, Vivian,” I said.

Lydia stepped up beside me and opened her briefcase.

She pulled out three thick stacks of legal documents bound in blue paper.

“Mr. Hartwell, Ms. Whitaker,” Lydia said, her voice clear and carrying across the silent room. “You are being served with an emergency injunction for corporate fraud and identity theft.”

A low murmur ran through the crowd of Newport’s elite.

“This is ridiculous,” Carter said, stepping down from the stage. “These are absolute lies.”

“The forensic accountants have already traced the IP addresses used for the digital signatures to your private office, Carter,” Lydia replied. “All assets of Vale House are frozen as of ten minutes ago.”

Sloane’s face turned ash gray. “Carter, do something.”

I took a step closer to my husband, looking directly into his blue eyes.

“You thought you could discard me and take June,” I said softly, just loud enough for the front row to hear.

Carter’s eyes darted quickly to his mother.

I knew exactly why they wanted my baby girl so badly.

The Hartwell family trust required a direct heir by Carter’s thirty-fifth birthday, which was next week, or the entire estate would revert to a charity.

They needed June to secure their fortune, and they needed me out of the way.

“June is a Hartwell,” Vivian snapped, her voice trembling with sudden rage. “She is the rightful heir to this family’s legacy.”

“Is she?” I asked.

I reached into my envelope and pulled out a sealed white packet with a red medical logo on the front.

“This is a court-ordered paternity test,” I said, holding it out to Carter.

He stared at the packet as if it were a weapon.