“He told me this was his,” Sloane whispered, her voice cracking.

I walked over to the kitchen island, stopping a few feet away from her.

“He lied to you, Sloane,” I said. “Just like he lied to me.”

Sloane looked up at me, her eyes darting to my pregnant stomach, then back to my face.

She looked terrified, her polished facade completely crumbling.

“He told me the trust was a formality,” Sloane said, her voice shaking as she took a step toward me. “He said you were giving up the apartment because you couldn’t afford the maintenance after the baby was born.”

Margaret took a step closer, her eyes narrowing.

“Miss Vale, I suggest you stop speaking and leave before we call the police to assist with your removal,” Margaret said.

Sloane shook her head, a desperate look appearing in her eyes.

“No, you don’t understand,” Sloane said, her fingers fumbling with the clasp of her leather handbag. “He told me we were going to live here. He promised me.”

She pulled out her phone, her hands trembling so much she almost dropped it onto the marble countertop.