“They followed me from the interstate.”

“Quiet, both of you,” my father snapped.

The room fell silent again, save for the rhythmic patter of the rain.

My father took a slow step toward the coffee table.

“You have a piece of paper, Ava,” he said.

“A piece of paper does not give you my money.”

“It was never your money, Dad,” I said.

Arthur opened his leather briefcase.

He pulled out a stack of documents.

He placed them next to the blue folder.

“These are the transfer authorization forms,” Arthur said.

“They release the full sum of the late Mrs. Parker’s estate to Ava.”

“They remove you as a trustee, effective immediately.”

“And if I refuse?” my father asked.

His hand twitched by his side.

“Then we go straight to the district attorney,” Arthur replied.

“We have the forensic analysis on the signature you forged on the second will.”

“We also have the paper trail of the funds you diverted.”

“You took Ava’s college fund to cover Brandon’s bad debts.”

I looked at my mother.

She would not meet my eye.

Instead, she smoothed Brandon’s damp hair.