“Did they ask about the history of the house?” I asked.

“They did,” Marcus said. “They are going to tear it down.”

“Good,” I said.

“They want to build a modern farmhouse,” he said.

“They can build whatever they want,” I said.

“The wire transfer for the sale price has been completed,” Marcus said.

“The funds are already in the escrow account,” he added.

“Please transfer the entire balance to the account for the New Leaf Foundation,” I said.

Marcus looked up from his papers.

“That is a very large amount of money to give away, Natalie,” he said.

“It was never mine,” I said.

“It belonged to a lie,” I said.

I took the pen from his hand and signed the deed transfer.

The black ink dried quickly on the white paper.

I walked out of the kitchen and down the long hallway.

My boots made a loud, hollow sound on the bare wood.

The house was empty.

The crystal chandeliers had been sold at auction.

The portraits of the Brooks ancestors had been thrown into a dumpster behind the garage.