“I don’t care what the county clerk said,” Dorian barked into the phone, ignoring me entirely. “We have the signature.”

He hung up, threw the phone onto the sofa, and finally looked at me.

“What are you doing here, Maren?” he asked, his voice instantly dropping into a low, patronizing tone.

“I live here, Dorian,” I said. “And more importantly, my father’s estate belongs to his trust, not to you.”

My mother walked into the room, her hands trembling as she set her mug down on a side table.

“Maren, we didn’t expect you back from Texas so soon,” she said, her voice thin and apologetic.

“I took emergency leave,” I said, looking directly at her.

My commanding officer at Fort Bliss had signed the papers yesterday morning after Mr. Voss called me with the emergency transfer details.

I had caught the first flight out of El Paso, rented an SUV at the regional airport, and driven straight up the mountain.

“You shouldn’t have abandoned your post for this,” Dorian said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your mother and I are handling your father’s affairs.”