“Oh, Sophia,” she said. “You’re home. I thought you were at your lawyer’s office today.”

“I was,” I said.

I descended the stairs slowly, my hand gripping the wooden banister.

“Did you finish up with your mother’s estate?” she asked, setting the bag on the console table.

“Most of it,” I said.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and stood three feet from her.

Linda took off her leather gloves, smoothing the material with her fingers.

“Good. It’s best to put all that legal business behind you. Family is what really matters.”

Ethan came down the stairs behind me, his steps heavy and slow.

Linda looked past me to her son.

She noticed his pale face immediately.

“Ethan? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“He’s not sick, Linda,” I said.

“I saw the loan documents,” I said.

The hallway went completely silent.

The low hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen seemed to grow louder.

Linda’s hands stayed poised over her gloves.

Her eyes darted to Ethan, then back to me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice dropping its warm tone.