“You thought you could use my grandfather’s name to elevate your social standing, while treating his granddaughter like a charity case,” I said.

“Your grandfather was a peasant who got lucky with land,” Vivian spat.

“My grandfather was the man who kept your family from bankruptcy twenty years ago,” I said.

I let that statement hang in the air.

Daniel looked up, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Grandfather Arden? He was just a retired builder.”

“He was the sole trustee of the Arden Trust,” I said.

I saw the exact moment Vivian realized what I was about to say.

The color drained completely from her face, leaving her looking old and gray under the chandelier light.

“Maya,” Vivian said, her voice suddenly losing its sharp edge, replaced by a desperate, warning tone.

“Do not do this.”

“Do what, Mother?” Daniel asked, looking between us. “What trust?”

“The trust that paid for your Ivy League tuition, Daniel,” I said.

“The trust that bought Claire’s horses,” I continued, looking at his sister.

“The trust that has paid the property taxes on your family estate for two decades,” I added.