“Get away from her, Carter,” I said.

Carter took a slow sip of his coffee.

He looked immaculate, as always, in his tailored gray suit.

“She has your eyes, Evelyn,” he said, looking down at June.

“But she has the Hartwell chin.”

“Don’t touch her,” I repeated, my voice dropping to a low hiss.

“It would be a shame if she grew up in some drafty apartment because her mother was too stubborn,” Carter said.

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded document.

He slid it across the marble toward me.

“What is this?” I asked.

“The transfer of the international trademark rights for Vale House,” he said.

“You want my company,” I said.

“I want what is fair,” Carter replied.

“The Hartwell family invested heavily in your early days.”

“You didn’t build anything,” I said. “You and your mother bled the company dry.”

Carter smiled, a cold, empty expression that did not reach his eyes.

“Sign the papers, Evelyn,” he said.

“You get sole custody of June. I will sign the waiver today.”

“And if I don’t?”