I watched them, feeling none of the triumph I had expected, only a cold, clean sense of completion.

The weight of my grandmother’s ring felt right on my hand, as if it had finally returned to the soil where it belonged.

Julian stepped up beside me, placing a hand gently on my shoulder.

“We need to go to the bank to sign the final receivership papers, Evelyn,” Julian murmured.

“Ramirez will handle the departure here,” Julian added, nodding toward the back of the church.

Sloane was already backing down the aisle, her purse clutched tightly against her chest like a shield.

Officer Ramirez intercepted her near the back pew, his arm extending to block her path.

“Just a moment, ma’am,” Ramirez said.

Before Sloane could answer, the side door near the vestry clicked open.

A cold gust of wind swept into the chapel, rustling the pages of the open hymnals.

A figure stood in the shadow of the doorway, holding a yellow manila folder.

The figure in the doorway stepped forward into the dim light of the nave.

It was Clara, Julian’s senior paralegal, her boots clicking softly against the flagstones.