Beatrice’s husband checked his phone and whispered, “My access is gone.”

Chloe stared at hers. “You froze my accounts.”

“The court did,” I said. “This morning.”

Beatrice rounded on me with open hatred. “After everything I did for you?”

“You mean after using my identity, stealing my money, and blaming me for surviving?”

“I raised you!”

“You controlled me.”

She raised her hand.