I walked through the rooms, carrying Evelyn in her car seat.

The moving company had already cleared out all of Grant’s belongings.

Only the furniture that belonged to my family remained.

I sat on the edge of the sofa and looked at the empty fireplace.

The silence was no longer heavy with tension.

It felt clean.

I took the baby out of her seat and held her against my shoulder.

“We have some work to do,” I told her.

***

Two weeks later, I sat in Naomi’s office on the top floor of a brick building in Old Town Alexandria.

The windows looked out over the Potomac River, where small white boats bobbed in the gray water.

Evelyn slept in a carrier at my feet.

Naomi pushed a thick stack of blue-bound documents across her desk.

“This is the charter for the Evelyn Langley Foundation,” Naomi said.

“And the funding?” I asked.

“Five million dollars has been transferred from your primary trust account,” Naomi said. “It is locked and earning interest.”

I picked up a heavy black fountain pen.