“If you do not leave the premises immediately, Brent, we will call the local police,” Jennifer said.

“They will arrest you for trespassing,” Molly added.

Brent lingered on the porch for a moment, his eyes darting around the quiet suburban neighborhood.

He looked like a man who had suddenly realized the ground beneath his feet was crumbling.

He turned around without another word and walked back to his car.

We watched through the window as he pulled away, his tires kicking up loose gravel.

Jennifer closed the door and locked it again, letting out a slow breath.

“He is desperate,” Jennifer said, turning to me. “A desperate man is highly unpredictable.”

“What is his next move?” I asked, walking back into the kitchen.

“He will try to delay the divorce proceedings,” Jennifer said, sitting down at the table. “He will try to claim that he had implied consent to sign those documents.”

“But he didn’t,” I said.

“We have the handwriting expert’s report,” Jennifer said, tapping her folder. “And we have the bank’s internal security footage of him entering the safety deposit box without you.”