The brick building looked solid and safe against the storm.

We took the elevator to the third floor, our wet coats dripping on the carpet.

Nora was waiting for us in her conference room.

Files were spread across the large mahogany table.

She looked exhausted but victorious.

“The state police have her in custody,” Nora said, handing me a cup of hot herbal tea.

“The embezzlement charges are airtight. We found the offshore accounts she used to drain your daughters’ trust fund.”

I sat down, holding the warm mug to warm my frozen hands.

“What about the townhouse?” I asked.

“The court will freeze all of Margaret’s assets,” Nora explained.

“Once the legal dust settles, the Greenwich townhouse and the remaining family estate will be returned to you.”

I closed my eyes, imagining the grand, empty rooms of that house.

It had been a prison for so long.

“I don’t want to live there,” I said suddenly.

Richard and Nora both looked at me, surprised.

“What do you want to do with it, Emily?” Richard asked gently.

“I want to change it,” I said, looking him in the eye.