She carried a pen.

“You wanted me to sign something,” Lily said, her voice completely devoid of warmth. She dropped a document onto the floor in front of them.

“So now you’re going to sign this.” It was a confession of judgment—a legal instrument, drafted by my lawyers, in which Beatrice and Preston acknowledged the debts Dominic now held, surrendered every remaining asset toward repayment, and formally, permanently withdrew any claim to Lily, her condo, or her name.

Their attorney had already reviewed it. He’d already told them, in a hallway, that it was the single mercy on the table—because the alternative was the prosecutor, the tape, and a jury.

“Sign it,” Lily said. “Or don’t, and take your chances with the recording of your own voice planning my funeral. Your choice.

It’s the last one you’ll get to make with any money in your pocket.” Preston looked at the paper. He looked at Dominic’s unblinking eyes. He looked at his mother.

Then, sobbing, snot running down his face, he grabbed the pen. Dominic placed a heavy, protective hand on Lily’s shoulder and steered her toward the elevator.