“It’s not a joke,” Graham whispered, sinking into the sofa and putting his head in his hands.

“They said there is an outstanding judgment against the Ralston name,” Gloria said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Some commercial lease in north Dallas?”

“It’s the Turtle Creek office, Mom,” Graham said, his voice muffled by his palms. “The landlord locked us out yesterday. They took the servers.”

“Then pay them!” Gloria snapped, her voice rising an octave. “Write a check from the personal reserve.”

“There is no personal reserve,” Graham said, finally looking up at her. “I used the last of it to cover the interest on the bridge loan last month.”

Gloria’s face flushed a deep, angry red.

“And what about this house?” she demanded. “The bank told me we don’t own the deed. That is impossible. Your father bought this land in ninety-eight.”

“He sold it, Mom,” Graham said quietly. “To the trust. And then the trust sold it to a holding company during the restructuring two years ago.”

“Who bought it?” Gloria barked, her fingers clutching her pearl necklace so hard the string looked ready to snap.