Sloane laughed, a sharp, bitter sound.

“Trespassing? I was invited here by the man who lives here.”

“The man who lives here won’t be able to pay the utility bills by Friday unless I sign a release,” I said.

Nathan looked at me, his eyes burning with anger.

But beneath the anger, I saw the first flicker of panic.

He knew I was telling the truth.

He had spent years treating my family’s wealth as his personal sandbox.

He had forgotten who actually held the shovel.

“Catherine,” he said, trying to soften his tone, taking a step forward with his hands raised.

“Let’s be reasonable. We can talk about this. You’re emotional right now.”

“I am not emotional,” I said. “I am extremely clear-headed.”

“You’re pregnant,” he said, his voice dropping into that familiar, patronizing rhythm.

He always used that tone when he wanted to make me doubt my own mind.

“You’re stressed. You aren’t thinking about what’s best for our baby.”

“This is exactly what is best for her,” I said.

“She will not grow up watching her father drain her future to buy expensive toys for his mistress.”