I hesitated, then answered it, pressing the phone to my ear.

“Evelyn,” his voice came through the speaker, calm and entirely devoid of the anger from the night before.

“What do you want, Carter?” I asked.

“I know you’ve been looking into things,” he said. “And I know you think you have a hand to play.”

“I don’t think, Carter. I know.”

“Let’s not do this over the phone,” he said. “I’m sitting in your kitchen right now. With June.”

My heart leaped into my throat, a cold spike of adrenaline hitting my chest.

“Don’t touch her,” I said, my voice rising.

“The nurse is making me coffee,” Carter said, his tone conversational. “She’s a very sweet girl. But she knows I’m the father. She has no reason to stop me if I want to take my daughter for a drive.”

“What do you want?” I demanded, my hand shaking on the steering wheel.

“I have a document here,” Carter said. “It’s a transfer of the international trademarks for Vale House. You sign them over to the Hartwell estate, and we can discuss a very generous joint custody agreement.”