“I have an emergency delivery for Walter Vance!” he yelled.

Walter frowned, turning around. “What is this nonsense?”

“It’s a temporary restraining order and an emergency injunction,” the man said, breathing heavily as he reached us.

He thrust the envelope toward Walter. “You’ve been served, Mr. Vance.”

Walter didn’t reach for it, so the man dropped it into the snow.

The paper spilled out onto the white ground, the bold lettering of a court document visible under the police lights.

Captain Vance stepped in front of the process server. “Get back in your vehicle. This is a secure military scene.”

“I’m a licensed process server,” the man said, raising his hands. “My job is done.”

Before anyone could pick up the envelope, my phone buzzed again in my hand.

It wasn’t a text this time.

It was an incoming call from a number I recognized instantly.

It was the landline to the main family estate.

My thumb swiped the screen, and I pressed the phone to my ear.

“Hannah?” a frantic voice cried out.

It was Patricia.

She sounded completely terrified, her voice cracking with tears.