“You have ruined this family name.”

“You did that yourself, Vivian,” I said.

I stood up, holding my purse in one hand and my coat in the other.

“The Hartwell name is no longer associated with my house,” I added.

“It is only associated with a criminal indictment.”

Vivian’s mouth tightened into a hard, pale line.

She turned on her heel and walked down the center aisle of the courtroom without looking back.

She did not wait for her son.

Carter remained in his chair, his head bowed.

His attorney was leaning over him, whispering rapidly into his ear, but Carter did not seem to hear.

I walked past them, my heels clicking on the linoleum floor.

As I reached the swinging wooden gate, I stopped beside Sloane.

She looked up at me, her face smeared with mascara, her nose red.

“Evelyn,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I was only doing what he told me to do.”

“He told me we would have a life together.”

“You should have known him better, Sloane,” I said.

“He uses people until they are empty.”