Dorian rubbed a hand over his face and sighed.

“Mom, the house originally belonged to Marisol’s father.”

“Originally?” Gwendolyn repeated, her eyes narrowing on the word.

“And legally, it still belongs entirely to Marisol,” Dorian admitted, looking miserable.

“Entirely?” Gwendolyn’s smug expression began to vanish.

“Your name isn’t on it at all?” “No,” he said quietly.

The silence that followed was different from every silence Marisol had endured in that dining room.

For the first time, Gwendolyn looked genuinely unsure of her footing.