She opened the folder, revealing several pages of bank statements and legal filings.

“The forensic accountants have already flagged the unauthorized transfers from the trust,” she said, pointing to a highlighted line.

“The ones Nathan used for Sloane’s business?” I asked.

“Yes,” Margaret said. “Over four hundred thousand dollars, moved under the guise of ‘property maintenance’ and ‘consulting fees’ for her firm.”

I looked down at my hands, my knuckles still tender. “That’s trust fraud.”

“It is grand larceny,” Margaret corrected, her eyes cold and sharp. “I have already spoken with the District Attorney’s office.”

She tapped the papers with her pen.

“Once the formal audit is complete next week, Nathan will be indicted,” she said.

“And Sloane?”

“Her firm’s bank accounts have been frozen as part of the asset preservation order,” Margaret said. “Her clients are already pulling out, and her suppliers are demanding payment.”

I felt a quiet sense of relief, a small weight lifting from my chest.

“We are going to reclaim the penthouse,” Margaret said. “Every inch of it.”

“I want to paint the nursery yellow again,” I said, looking over at Amelia. “I want Sloane’s things gone.”