Arthur Vance opened the brass latch on his leather binder with a heavy metallic click.

“Mrs.

Sterling,” Arthur said, his formal baritone cutting through the quiet whispers starting at the far end of the table.

“I suggest you take your seat.”

“Excuse me?” Victoria said.

“I’m here tonight in my official capacity as court-appointed trustee of the Walter Sterling Irrevocable Trust,” Arthur said.

Brandon set his wine glass down so hard the stem creaked against the polished wood.

“Vance, this is a private celebration,” Brandon said, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket.