As his breathing turned shallow with panic, Alistair’s lead attorney lifted his phone and made the call that would end the Pembroke name for good.

The Frozen Accounts

“You gave him our private files?!” Reginald’s voice cracked into a shriek. Every ounce of his polish was gone, and what was left was small and dishonest.

“You wretched girl! I’ll take you to court! I’ll have you thrown in jail!”

He lunged toward my bed, hands out.

Alistair stepped between us before he could reach me, planted a hand on my father’s chest, and shoved him back hard. Reginald stumbled into the wall, knocking a framed picture to the floor, where the glass shattered.

“Do not raise your voice near my family,” Alistair said, in a whisper more menacing than any shout. “And never move toward my wife again.”