“Mother, don’t do this,” Julian said, taking a step toward her.

“These documents are nothing but clever forgeries,” Miranda said, her voice rising.

“They are signed by Arthur Sterling,” Nathaniel said.

“My father-in-law was dead when these were allegedly signed,” Miranda lied, her eyes flashing. “Or he was completely incompetent.”

“I have the medical records from that week,” Elias said. “He was in perfect health.”

“You have nothing but paper,” Miranda said. “And paper can be fabricated.”

She tapped the screen of her phone, her thumb hovering over the dial button.

“By the time the police get here, you will all be charged with breaking into my private residence and trying to blackmail me,” she said.

“I live here, Mother,” Julian said. “And I let them in.”

“Then you will be named as an accomplice to a fraud,” Miranda said.

She looked at me, her eyes cold and calculating.

“A clever maid and her senile grandfather,” she whispered.

I held the document tighter, feeling the texture of the old parchment under my fingers.

The ink was faded, but the signature of Arthur Sterling was clear.