THE WAX SEAL ON TABLE ONE

The world tilted on its axis.

A drawing of a boy with a blue balloon. It was the exact picture Leo had drawn for my refrigerator three days ago. It had been hanging in our kitchen when I left for the gala.

I pushed past Marcus, nearly knocking him down the stairs, and sprinted for the kitchen.

I flipped on the harsh overhead lights. The refrigerator was covered in magnets, grocery lists, and school calendars.

But the drawing of the blue balloon was gone.

Someone had been in my house. While I was at the gala. While Marcus was parading his mistress. Someone had walked into the heart of my home, taken my son's drawing, and handed it to the men who owned Marcus's debts.

I turned back to the doorway. Marcus was standing there, clutching his phone, looking at the empty spot on the fridge.

"They were here," I whispered, the horror choking my words. "You brought these people into our home."

"I didn't know," he stammered, running a hand through his hair. "Evelyn, I swear, I thought I had more time. I was going to use the Cayman money to pay them off tomorrow!"

"But the account is frozen," I said, my mind racing. "If I didn't freeze it, and you didn't freeze it, who has the authorization?"

Marcus looked at me, a sickening realization dawning in his eyes. "The only other person who had custodial access to the trust... was your grandmother."

I stared at him. "My grandmother has been dead for a week."

"Then who has her power of attorney?" he demanded.

I blinked. My grandmother’s lawyer, an old family friend named Arthur Vance, had taken over her estate. But Arthur hadn't executed the will yet.

Unless he had.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed my sister, Sarah. She picked up on the first ring.

"Evie? How did the gala go?"

"Sarah, where is Leo?" I demanded, my voice sharp.

"He's right here in the living room, watching a movie. Why? What's wrong?"

I closed my eyes, letting out a shaky breath. "Do not let him out of your sight. Do not open the door for anyone. Lock the deadbolts. I’m sending Thomas to sit outside your house."

"Evelyn, you're scaring me."

"Just do it, Sarah!" I hung up and immediately dialed Arthur Vance. It went straight to voicemail.

I looked at Marcus. The man I had loved, the man I had trusted, was nothing but a hollow shell of greed and cowardice.

"They want their money, Marcus," I said coldly. "And they're using our son as leverage to get it. How much do you owe them?"

Marcus swallowed hard. "Twelve million."

"The Cayman account only has eight."

He looked at the floor. "I know. That's why I needed Celeste to sign the Aspen deed over to them. She was supposed to fly there tonight to transfer the property to their holding company. It was the final collateral."

The photograph I had left for Celeste under the plate. I had put the Aspen deed in my name yesterday to protect the asset, not realizing Marcus needed it to save his own life—and Leo's. Celeste panicked because she realized she couldn't transfer a property she didn't own.

I had inadvertently trapped him.

"Get your coat," I told him, walking past him toward the front door.

"Where are we going?"

"To Arthur Vance's office," I said. "We're going to find out who froze that account. And then we are going to get my grandmother's money back. Because if you think I am letting a single hair on my son's head be touched because of your pathetic gambling addiction, you are about to see exactly why my grandmother left the empire to me."

We drove in silence, the rain lashing against the windshield.

When we pulled up to Arthur Vance's downtown law firm, the building was dark. Except for one window on the fourth floor.

We rode the elevator up, the tension thick enough to cut. I pushed open the glass doors of the suite. The lights were on in Arthur's private office.

I walked in, expecting to find the elderly lawyer reviewing files.

Instead, sitting in Arthur's heavy leather chair, holding a glass of scotch, was a woman. She was in her late thirties, dressed in an immaculate dark suit, her dark hair pulled back severely.

On the desk in front of her lay the original deed to the Aspen house, the frozen Cayman account files, and my grandmother’s sapphire bracelet—the exact same bracelet Celeste had been wearing two hours ago.