“If you leave this house with those papers, I will report a burglary,” Vance said.

“You don’t have the authority to be here.”

“The police will arrest you before you reach the hospital.”

I looked at the window behind the changing table.

It was painted shut, but it looked out onto the alley.

“My wife is in a hospital bed because of her,” I said.

“Megan almost lost our baby today.”

“Your mother only wants what is best for the family legacy,” Vance said.

“You have always been weak, Jake.”

“Just like your father.”

The mention of my father made my blood boil.

He had died ten years ago, broken and silenced by my mother’s lawyers.

I realized Vance was trying to keep me talking.

He was waiting for someone.

I heard the distant sound of a car door slamming outside in the driveway.

A second set of footsteps began to ascend the wooden stairs of the porch.

“Give me the files,” Vance repeated, his hand still outstretched.

“No,” I said.

I lunged to the side, dodging past him.

Vance reached out and grabbed my jacket sleeve.