“He tried,” Jerome said. “But the police were called for unauthorized entry.”

“He didn’t realize that your grandmother’s trust administrator had already flagged those assets.”

I looked down at the manila envelope in my hands.

“A process server just handed me a creditor’s claim,” I said.

“They are trying to freeze the house.”

“Let them try,” Jerome said, his voice dropping to a calm, steady register.

“I have the original trust documents on my desk.”

“The clause your grandmother inserted is ironclad, Avery.”

“Meet me at my office in one hour.”

“Bring the papers.”

I hung up the phone and walked back inside the house.

The living room was empty now, save for a few cardboard boxes stacked near the door.

The walls showed pale squares where my framed landscape paintings used to hang.

I grabbed my coat and my purse, leaving the movers to lock up the front door.

An hour later, I sat in the leather chair opposite Jerome’s desk.

The office smelled of old paper and furniture polish.

Rachel sat next to me, her hand resting gently on my forearm.