Mark looked at me, his eyes wide and wild.

“Claire, listen to me,” he said. “It wasn’t like that.”

“You used my mother’s death to steal from her charity,” I said.

“It was a temporary loan,” Mark said. “We were going to pay it back once the development investments matured.”

“What investments?” Juliette asked.

She stepped closer to the table, her eyes fixed on the bank statements.

“The apartment in the city,” she said. “The one you told me your family owned.”

“It wasn’t for us,” Mark snapped. “It was an asset.”

“You lied to me,” Juliette said.

Her voice was flat. The ambition in her face seemed to have turned to ice.

“You told me your family owned this entire estate,” she said.

“We do,” Mark said.

“No,” Thomas said. “Hartwell House belongs to the estate. And Claire is the sole heir.”

The man in the grey suit tapped his screen again.

“The compliance department has frozen the accounts,” the man said.

He looked at Mark.

“They are reversing the pending transfers now,” he said.

Mark’s phone began to vibrate on the table again.