He turned on his heel and walked out of the office, his leather shoes clicking sharply on the hardwood before the heavy doors clicked shut behind him.

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

Ruby reached up and grabbed my hand, her small fingers freezing cold.

“Mommy, what’s going to happen to our home?” she asked.

I knelt down in front of her, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“We’re going to fix it, baby,” I promised, though I had no idea how. “I promise you.”

Nathaniel walked over to his massive mahogany desk and picked up a thick, black leather binder.

“Claire, please sit down,” he said softly, gesturing to the leather chairs. “There is something you need to see.”

I sat, pulling Ruby into my lap.

Nathaniel opened the binder and turned it toward me.

The pages were filled with columns of numbers, bank routing codes, and official wire transfer receipts.

“For twelve years, I have believed that Brindlewood was one of the finest apartment complexes in the city,” Nathaniel began.

He pointed to a line on the first page, dated ten years ago.