Her expression didn’t just shift.
It collapsed.
Confidence drained. Color faded. Control slipped. What remained was something rawer—fear, barely hidden beneath calculation.
At the same moment, Attorney Evelyn Porter stepped out of her car, composed as ever, a leather folder tucked neatly under her arm.
“Good morning,” she said.
Diana straightened. “Who are you?”
“I’m Evelyn Porter, legal counsel for Rebecca Hale,” she replied calmly. “And unless the law changed overnight, you’re currently standing on property held in trust for my client.”
Silence.
Heavy. Immediate.
Diana let out a sharp laugh. “That’s ridiculous. This house belongs to my husband.”
Continue on the next page:
