“I am calm,” Marisol said, and closed her laptop.

Gwendolyn laughed sharply.

“You certainly didn’t sound calm this afternoon, saying this was your house as though Dorian has no place here.”

And Marisol reached for her tablet, where the official county deed was already displayed — she had downloaded the record that afternoon, after realizing her mother-in-law’s misunderstanding had survived only because Dorian found it convenient.

She turned the screen toward both of them.

“The house belonged to my father before he passed away,” she said, in a measured tone.