“No, please,” Sloane begged, taking a step toward Margaret.

“I didn’t know about the tea until last week,” Sloane said.

“I swear, I didn’t know he was actually giving her things,” she said.

“He told me it was just a backup plan,” Sloane said.

“He said he would convince her to sign over custody voluntarily,” she said.

“By threatening to ruin her reputation with the fabricated medical files,” Margaret said.

“Yes,” Sloane whispered, her shoulders sinking.

She looked completely defeated, the expensive designer clothes suddenly looking too large for her thin frame.

“Where is Nathan right now?” I asked.

The pain in my back returned, sharper this time, a distinct squeezing sensation that made me grip the edge of the island.

I sank slowly onto one of the leather barstools, trying to keep my breathing shallow.

“He’s downstairs,” Sloane said.

“He was waiting in the garage,” she said.

“He said he wanted me to make sure the apartment was empty before he brought the rest of the bags up,” she said.

Mr. Vance turned to Mrs. Gable.

“Call the front desk,” Mr. Vance said.