She didn’t look up immediately. She was staring down at her mug of tea, her fingers tracing the rim.

“Thanks for coming,” she said, her voice quiet and thin.

“Let’s get right to it, Kayla,” I said. “Why are you doing this?”

She finally looked up, her eyes wide and anxious.

“Because Scott is losing his mind,” she said.

A waitress walked over, pouring a cup of black coffee for me without asking, then walked away.

“What do you mean, losing his mind?” I asked, wrapping my hands around the warm mug.

“The bank froze his temporary credit line yesterday,” Kayla said. “Because of your lawyer’s filing.”

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“He owes people money, Avery. A lot of money.”

“What people?” I asked.

“Investors. Guys he made promises to based on the inheritance,” she said. “He spent fifty thousand dollars last week on a retainer for a defense lawyer.”

She rubbed her temples, looking exhausted.

“He’s drinking again. He came home last night and threw a glass against the wall because I asked him how we were going to pay rent.”