“Look at the date on this, Mom,” I said. “This was signed three weeks after Dad was buried.”

She crossed her arms, pulling her silk robe tighter around her body.

“Your father was not in his right mind at the end,” she said. “Decisions had to be made.”

“Dad didn’t sign this,” I said, pointing to the crooked blue ink at the bottom of the page. “Dorian forged it.”

She let out a dry, humorless laugh and turned her back to me, walking over to the sink.

“You’ve always looked for reasons to hate him,” she said, her back still turned. “From the very first day.”

“I don’t need to look for reasons when the evidence is sitting on your counter,” I said.

I pulled out another sheet of paper, this one bearing the seal of Mr. Voss’s law firm.

“Mr. Voss confirmed that the trust was never supposed to be touched,” I said. “It was locked.”

My mother turned around, her face pale under her makeup.

“Mr. Voss is an old man who doesn’t understand how modern business works,” she said.