My mother-in-law burst into my penthouse waving a stack of overdue notices and screamed, “Liam, your wife hasn’t paid the property management company in six months!

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.