“They made the company look bankrupt so I would hand over my inheritance.”

“It looks that way,” Sarah said quietly.

“They emptied the domestic accounts, claimed poverty, and took your money to keep the lights on while the real wealth sat offshore.”

“Can we prove it?” I asked.

“We need the physical records from Richard’s home office,” she said.

“The digital trail stops at the Delaware holding company.”

“The papers are at the house,” I said.

“In the guest house where Richard keeps his old banking files.”

“If they find out we are looking, those files will burn,” Sarah warned.

The rain finally started, tapping softly against the office window.

I stood up and pulled my coat tightly around my shoulders.

“They won’t know,” I said.

I drove back to the Carter family estate in silence.

The wipers cleared the windshield with a steady, rhythmic click.

My mind was entirely clear now, stripped of all grief and replaced by a cold, sharp focus.

I parked my car at the edge of the gravel driveway, near the tall pine trees.