The word cut him off cleanly.
He stared at me, offended that I still had the power to interrupt him.
Eleanor recovered first. She always did. Her entire life had been a long performance of wounded dignity, and she knew how to step back into character.
“This is a family matter,” she snapped toward my phone. “Whatever you think you saw, you have no right to interfere.”
Mara’s voice remained perfectly even.
“Mrs. Callahan, you walked into a private residence, demanded twelve thousand dollars from my client under false pretenses, and then witnessed your son assault her when she refused. I have every right to interfere.”
Eleanor’s eyes flicked to the folder on the kitchen island.
The blue legal folder.
Her folder now, in a way. Her reckoning.
I laid my palm flat on top of it.
