“Can we prove he wrote the draft?” Richard asked.

“Not just yet, but we can prove the account was accessed from his physical location while the owner has been deceased for two years,” Nora said.

She paused, looking up at me.

“Emily, did Michael have any other assets? Anything that didn’t go through Margaret?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Vale said everything was drafted under the family umbrella. Our townhouse in Brooklyn, the girls’ college funds, everything was tied to the family business.”

Nora frowned, her eyebrows drawing together.

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said. “Michael was a successful software developer. His first company sold for millions before he married you.”

“Margaret said that money was lost in the market crash,” I said.

Nora’s fingers started typing again, faster this time.

“I’ve been pulling the public probate filings from the county court while I was in the car,” Nora said, her voice dropping to a focused whisper.

She tapped the enter key with a sharp click.

The screen of her laptop flashed green, loading a series of scanned legal documents with official red seals.