“Thank you, Arthur,” I said. “We are here to resolve a few matters.”

Two police officers in high-visibility wet-weather gear stepped out of a marked cruiser parked just down the street.

Julian met them on the sidewalk, showing them the certified court order signed by the judge that afternoon.

We entered the lobby together, our wet shoes squeaking on the marble floor.

The elevator ride up to the penthouse was silent, save for the hum of the cables and the heavy breathing of one of the officers.

When the elevator doors opened directly into our private vestibule, the double doors of the penthouse stood wide open.

Inside, the lights were bright, casting harsh shadows across the minimalist living room.

A half-packed suitcase sat open on the velvet sofa, a tangle of silk dresses spilling over the side.

“Bennett,” I said, walking into the room.

He spun around from the doorway of the study, his face pale and his tie loosened.

Celeste stood behind him, clutching a silver jewelry box to her chest.

“Evelyn,” Bennett said, trying to pull his shoulders back into his usual posture of authority. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?”