My husband let his mistress hold my eight-week-old daughter in my nursery while she wore the ivory silk dress I had bought for my own newborn portraits. Two minutes after the photographer sent me the gallery, I knew my marriage was over, but Landon still had no idea those files had reached me. And the photographs were not even the worst thing hiding inside that gallery.

“Maeve Sterling doesn't take custody cases unless there’s a seven-figure retainer,” Landon hissed, stepping into my space. “Where did you get that kind of money, Greer? Your accounts are tied to our marital estate. I froze our joint credit lines two hours ago.”

“You froze the marital accounts,” I said calmly. “You didn't freeze the trust fund established by my father. The one that transferred exclusively to my sole control the moment June was born.”

Landon staggered back half a step.

For three years, Landon had believed my father’s estate was tied up in complicated probate proceedings in Delaware. He thought I was broke, dependent on his partnership draw, completely trapped under his thumb. He had never bothered to read the fine print of my father’s will because he assumed my father was as careless with money as Evelyn was.

“You lied to me,” Landon whispered, genuine fury twisting his features. “You’ve had liquid capital this entire time?”

“I didn't lie. I just didn't consult you. Exactly the way you didn't consult me before moving your mistress into my nursery.” I turned my gaze to Harper. “Harper, you’re an associate at Crestview Capital, right? Under Landon’s division?”

Harper swallowed, her voice barely audible. “Greer, please—”

“Did Landon tell you that Crestview’s primary mezzanine lender is the Vance-Maddox Holding Group?” I smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “And did he tell you who holds forty-nine percent of the voting shares in that group? My family’s foundation. By tomorrow morning at eight, the compliance board will receive Tessa’s files, including the corporate emails you sent from your firm account coordinating this photo shoot on company time.”

Harper spun around to Landon, panic bleeding through her makeup. “Landon! You said she had nothing! You said she was completely dependent on your salary!”

“Shut up, Harper!” Landon snapped, losing his control completely.

“Don't you speak to her like that,” Evelyn commanded, her voice trembling with cold rage. She stepped directly in front of me, leaning in close. “You think you’re clever, Greer. But you forget who built this town’s legal network. My family has owned judges in this district since your grandfather was selling scrap metal. You will not take that child from this house. If you walk out that door, Landon will file an emergency petition for international kidnapping prevention before midnight. You won't see June for six months while the court investigates.”

“Try it,” I said.

I tapped the screen of my phone. The speaker crackled to life.

“Good evening, Mrs. Maddox,” Maeve Sterling’s deep, velvety voice projected clearly into the silent nursery. “This is Maeve Sterling. I’ve been listening to this entire exchange via an active call since Greer entered the room. Every word uttered by Landon Maddox, Evelyn Maddox, and Harper Quinn has been recorded on my firm’s secure server pursuant to Illinois one-party consent exemptions for active extortion investigations.”

Evelyn froze. Landon’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“Furthermore,” Maeve continued briskly, “two uniformed officers from the 18th Precinct are standing on the sidewalk outside your front gate right now. They have an escort warrant to ensure Greer and her infant child leave the premises safely. If anyone in that room attempts to block the doorway, touch the child, or restrict Greer’s movement, Officer Miller has orders to arrest Landon Maddox for felony unlawful restraint.”