“You told me we were safe,” Julianne said, her voice rising in pitch. “You told me the trust fund was locked down.”

“Silence, Julianne,” Patricia snapped, her voice like ice.

Julianne looked as though she had been slapped.

She watched an agent carry out a silver tea service that had belonged to her grandmother.

The reality of total financial ruin was settling over her face.

I watched her hands clench into fists, her knuckles turning white.

She knew what was coming.

Without the Monroe name and the family wealth, she had nothing.

Julianne looked back at Grant, who was staring blankly at the floor.

Then she looked at Patricia, her expression shifting from fear to cold anger.

“I am not going to jail for you,” Julianne whispered.

Patricia glared at her. “Keep your mouth shut, Julianne.”

Julianne did not look away from her mother.

She took a deep breath and took a step toward me.

“Colonel,” Julianne said, her voice trembling but clear.

Grant took a step toward her, his face suddenly pale. “Julianne, don’t.”

“Stay back, Grant,” I said, putting my hand on my sidearm.