She reached toward the hymnal rack where she had just left my grandmother’s ring, but my hand was already resting over it on my finger.

“It’s over, Sloane,” I said.

Behind us, the heavy oak doors at the back of the chapel creaked open.

The gray afternoon light spilled down the center aisle, cutting through the gloom of the sanctuary.

Officer Ramirez stood in the doorway, his dark uniform a sharp contrast to the white marble of the vestibule.

He did not enter yet, but his hand rested casually near his utility belt as he watched us.

Julian tapped his screen twice, his face illuminated by the blue glare of his tablet.

“I am sending the formal notification to the probate court now, Graham,” Julian said.

“Since you are not a biological descendant, the emergency injunction is active,” Julian added.

“You can’t do this,” Graham said, his voice rising to a desperate pitch.

He reached into his coat pocket for his phone, his fingers shaking as he unlocked the screen.

“My accounts,” Graham whispered, staring at the screen. “They’re frozen.”