Richard stood up and walked to the window, looking out into the dark garden.

“I have a friend,” Richard said, turning back to me. “Her name is Nora Singh. She is one of the sharpest estate attorneys in the country.”

“I can’t afford an attorney like that,” I said immediately.

“You aren’t paying for her,” Richard said. “I am.”

“Richard, I can’t let you do that.”

“It is already done,” he said. “I texted her while you were upstairs. She is flying in from Chicago tomorrow morning.”

He walked back to his desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a small yellow legal pad.

“We need to find those original documents,” Richard said. “If Vale fabricated the debts, we can break Margaret’s hold on you.”

I felt a tear slip down my cheek, but for the first time, it wasn’t from fear.

“Thank you,” I said.

Before Richard could answer, his computer monitor on the desk chimed.

He leaned over to look at the screen.

The blue light reflected in his eyes, and his expression instantly went rigid.

“What is it?” I asked, standing up from the chair.