“What did you do, Catherine?”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said, leaning against the doorframe to support my weight. “The trust did.”

Sloane stepped fully into the foyer, her designer heels clicking sharply on the dark herringbone floor.

“Nathan, just use the black card,” she said, her voice tight. “The reservation for the custom furniture shipment expires tonight.”

Nathan didn’t look at her.

He was already dialing a number, holding the phone tightly to his ear.

“Yes, this is Nathan Vance,” he said into the receiver.

His hand was trembling slightly, just enough to make the gold band on his ring finger catch the light.

“I’m trying to authorize a payment, and it’s coming back as declined.”

He listened for a moment.

His jaw tightened so hard I could see the muscle twitch under his skin.

“What do you mean, administrative hold?” he demanded.

He walked two steps toward the window, looking out over the rain-slicked city streets below.

“I am the co-signer on that account. I have full authorization.”

There was another pause.