“He’s frozen the estate accounts, and your personal ones are tied up in the co-mingling claim.”

“He can’t do that,” I said, my voice shaking.

“He did,” Alden replied.

“And there’s more.”

“The judge signed a temporary restraining order.”

“You are locked out of Blackthorn Ridge, Clara.”

“If you set foot on the property before the hearing next week, the sheriff will arrest you for trespassing.”

I stared at the diner table, the cold coffee in front of me reflecting the neon sign outside.

“He’s trying to starve me out,” I whispered.

“He’s playing dirty,” Alden admitted.

“I’m sorry, Clara. My hands are tied until we go to court.”

I ended the call, my mind racing.

Everything I needed to fight this was still inside the house.

The remaining land deeds, the tax records, and the original trust agreements from the 1970s were in the filing cabinets in the basement.

If Graham got his hands on those documents first, he could destroy them.

I knew I had to go back tonight, regardless of the injunction.