The smell of her expensive, musky perfume filled the space between us.

“Ethan signed as a guarantor on several of those loans.”

My chest tightened, but I kept my face still.

“Is that true, Ethan?” I asked.

He nodded slowly, looking down at the table.

“I had to help him, Sophia,” he whispered.

“If he goes down, they will come after our house.”

“They will come after everything we own.”

Linda reached across the table and placed her hand over mine.

Her palm was cold and dry.

“So you see, it’s not a request,” she said softly.

“It is a necessity.”

“We need you to sign the transfer authorization today.”

“The lawyers have already prepared the wire instructions.”

She pulled a folded sheet of paper from her leather purse and pushed it toward me.

I looked down at the bank routing numbers printed on the page.

They had planned this before the funeral was even over.

“Seven million dollars,” I repeated.

“Yes,” Linda said, her grip on my hand tightening slightly.

“It’s a tragedy about your mother, of course.”

“But she would want you to protect your husband’s future.”

I looked at Ethan.

He was looking at the manila folder with an expression of pure desperation.

And something else.

Greed.

He thought this money was his saving grace.

He thought his mother’s plan was foolproof.

“I have the bank documents right here,” I said, my voice quiet.

I slowly slid my hand out from under Linda’s cold palm.

I placed my fingers on the tab of the manila folder.

“The bank processed everything yesterday morning,” I said.

“So the money is there?” Ethan asked, leaning forward, his eyes bright.

“It is fully processed,” I said.

Linda let out a long, audible sigh of relief.

She smiled warmly for the first time in months.

“Thank goodness,” she whispered.

“Open the folder, Sophia.”