I walked out of the building, leaving the soldiers to clear the remaining documents.

The gravel crunched under my boots as I walked up the winding driveway toward the main estate.

The air smelled of wet pine and exhaust fumes.

Ahead, the white columns of the Monroe mansion were illuminated by the blue and red flashing lights of several government vehicles.

Two black transport vans were parked on the circular driveway, their engines idling with a low, heavy rumble.

As I approached the front portico, the double doors of the house opened.

Patricia Monroe walked out, escorted by two federal agents.

She wore her beige cashmere coat, but her head was bare to the rain.

Her hair, usually styled in a stiff, perfect dome, was wet and plastered to her forehead.

She stopped when she saw me standing in the driveway.

The agents paused, allowing her to speak.

“You ruined this family, Allison,” Patricia said, her voice thin and sharp. “Everything we built. Everything we gave you.”

“You didn’t give me anything, Patricia,” I said. “You used my clearance to cover your debts.”