My heart hammered against my ribs, but my hand on the recorder remained steady.

Vivian set her teacup down with a sharp click against the saucer.

“Let’s be clear, Evelyn,” she said, leaning forward.

“You have no cards left to play.”

I stayed where I was, standing in the center of the Persian rug.

Outside, a sudden gust of wind threw heavy raindrops against the tall leaded windows.

The fire in the hearth crackled, casting long, twisting shadows across the mahogany bookshelves.

“I always have cards, Vivian,” I said, keeping my voice level and quiet.

“Not this time,” Carter said, stepping away from the window.

His expensive Italian leather shoes made no sound on the thick carpet.

He stopped next to his mother’s chair, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“We have the legal ownership of Vale House, Evelyn,” he said.

“The trademark registration was filed and approved three weeks ago.”

I reached into my coat pocket, my fingers brushing against the cold plastic of the small recording device.

I pressed the small, tactile button on the side.

A single, silent vibration against my thigh confirmed it was running.