“Are you ready for what Spencer will do when he sees this face?”

“He spent two years acting like I didn’t exist,” I said.

“He can spend tomorrow looking at what he walked out on.”

“He was lying to you on that park bench,” Helen said quietly.

“His mother doesn’t know about his credit card debt, but the court will.”

“He wanted fifty thousand dollars to go away,” I said.

“He’s not getting fifty dollars.”

At ten in the morning, the heavy oak table in Thomas Bellamy’s conference room was buried in double-spaced legal filings.