A long pause. Then the hollow acoustic shift of a phone set on a hard surface.

Evelyn’s voice cut through instantly, venomous and shrill. “You shameless, vindictive little snake! You think you can—”

“Evelyn, close your mouth and listen carefully,” I interrupted, leaving no room for debate. “The Beaumont Estate is legally mine. You do not own the walls.

You do not own the floors. You do not own the air inside it. As of nine tomorrow morning, you are officially classified as guests. Uninvited ones.”

I heard the sharp hitch in her breathing.

Daniel stammered, the last of his ego shattering. “That’s… that’s legally impossible. We’re married. It’s marital property.”