“Please,” she added, her tone hardening. “We will resolve this quietly.”

Nobody moved.

“Patricia,” Thomas Bell said, his voice low and dry. “They do not answer to you.”

Juliette took a step toward Mark, her red dress rustling against the edge of the stage.

“Mark, what does he mean by ‘every penny’?” she demanded.

Her hand clutched at the strap of her designer handbag.

“The apartment in the city,” she said. “The car.”

Mark kept his eyes on the floor, his jaw tight.

“Be quiet, Juliette,” he muttered.

“No,” she said, her voice rising an octave. “You told me the trust was yours.”

She looked at me, then back to Mark, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You said your mother had secured the lease on the townhouse,” she said.

Patricia turned on her, her eyes flashing. “That is enough, young lady.”

“Is it?” Juliette cried, her composure slipping entirely.

She reached out and grabbed Mark’s arm, shaking it.

“Was that her money?” she asked. “Was it Claire’s?”

Mark pulled his arm away from her grip with a sharp jerk.

“I told you to drop it,” he hissed.