The moment the pink confetti exploded over our backyard, my husband shouted, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? ANOTHER GIRL?”

Dennis Walsh did not take the news well.

By Wednesday morning, Diana’s legal team had served the emergency injunctions at the Walsh Building Supply headquarters. By ten o'clock, Nathan had called Paige’s phone thirty-two times, while Carol had left six frantic voicemails demanding that I “stop this insane vendetta before Dennis has a stroke.”

At two that afternoon, accompanied by Diana and an independent forensic accountant, I walked into the Walsh Building Supply boardroom.

The room was paneled in heavy oak, decorated with framed photos of Dennis and Nathan cutting ribbons at new lumber yards. Sitting at the long conference table were Dennis, Carol, Nathan, and their longtime lawyer, Arthur Vance.

Dennis looked incandescent with rage, his face dark purple above his stiff collar. Nathan sat slouched, looking haggard, shadows dark under his bloodshot eyes.

“You have five minutes to withdraw these fraudulent filings, Erin,” Dennis barked, slamming his palm onto the polished wood. “Arthur has already prepared counter-motions. You are trying to extort this family because you had a temper tantrum over a party balloon!”

Diana Vance didn’t even blink. She pulled out a chair for me, then set two thick binders on the table with a loud thud.

“Save the theatrics for the judge, Dennis,” Diana said smoothly. “As of eight o’clock this morning, the county court granted our emergency freeze. Every corporate account held by Walsh Building Supply is locked for transactions over five thousand dollars until my forensic team audits the last six years of general ledger entries.”

Arthur Vance leaned over, his voice strained. “Diana, surely we can resolve this without an audit. Dennis is willing to negotiate a generous post-nuptial settlement for the girls’ education.”

“The time for Dennis’s ‘generosity’ passed when he threw a baby gift onto the dirt,” I spoke up, looking Dennis dead in the eye.

Dennis glared at me with absolute contempt. “You were nothing until my son married you! You think you can run a lumber supply company? You think you can sit in this room as an equal?”

“I don’t just sit here as an equal, Dennis,” I replied calmly. “I sit here as a shareholder you defaulted on. I audited your inventory in 2016 when you were bleeding two hundred thousand dollars a quarter to fraudulent suppliers. I know every vendor, every invoice, and every tax loop you exploited. You wanted an heir with a Walsh name to take your business? You’re looking at the mother of four Walsh girls who now control twelve percent of your life’s work.”

Nathan looked up, his voice cracking. “Erin, please. Let's just talk in private. Don't do this to my family.”

“*Your* family was sleeping in Paige’s basement while you were nursing your bruised ego,” I said, turning my gaze onto him. “You traded your daughters’ dignity for your father’s praise, Nathan. You wanted to make sure they got nothing unless they were boys. Well, the law doesn't care about your medieval succession fantasies. You will pay child support, you will pay spousal support, and you will answer to the forensic team for every penny you hid.”

Carol stood up, trembling with outrage. “We will drag this out until you are bankrupt! Dennis has millions in reserve!”

Diana smiled like a shark catching the scent of blood. “Those foreign reserves in the Cayman LLC, Carol? We found those this morning. The IRS has already been notified of the non-disclosure filings Dennis signed under penalty of perjury. Shall we continue this conversation, or would Dennis prefer to avoid a federal indictment?”