From the neighbor’s yard, the faint smell of lighter fluid and barbecue smoke drifted across our lawn.

Dan stared at the screen, his thumb scrolling slowly down the image.

“Is this Aunt Clara’s estate?” Dan asked.

He looked up at his mother, his expression blank with confusion.

“You told me her house was sold to pay off her medical debts.”

“It was,” Juliette said quickly.

She stepped toward him, her hand reaching out to touch his arm.

“Most of it was, Danny. You don’t understand how these complicated legal things work.”

“I understand numbers, Mom,” Dan said.

He pulled his arm back, just out of her reach.

“This document says the net payout to you was over three hundred thousand dollars.”

Juliette’s face hardened.

The soft, fragile mother persona vanished in an instant.

She turned her head and glared at me, her eyes narrowing into thin, hostile slits.

“You did this,” she hissed.

“You have been digging into my personal life since the day you met my son.”

“I didn’t dig for anything,” I said.

“Someone sent it to me.”

“Liar,” Juliette said.