“Exactly,” Sean said. “They legally lose everything. The entire estate belongs to you.”

The bell above the diner door chimed.

I looked up quickly, my hand instinctively covering the blue document.

Arthur Pendelton walked in, his long gray wool coat wet from the rain.

He spotted us, walked over to the booth, and sat down next to me.

“Are you alright, Ava?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Arthur, look at this.”

I slid the blue folder toward him.

Arthur took off his leather gloves, reached into his pocket for his reading glasses, and began to read.

He turned the pages slowly, his face growing more serious with every second.

“This is her signature,” Arthur murmured, his thumb brushing the ink. “The notary registration number matches the logbook from my old files.”

“The document your father filed last month used a forged stamp with an expired registration,” he added.

Arthur looked up, his eyes wide.

“This is it, Ava. This is the authentic will.”

“What does this mean for my parents?” I asked.

“It means they have no legal claim to any part of the estate,” Arthur said. “They have violated the terms.”