“What happens if I refuse to sign?” I asked.

“Then the cabin remains yours, and Apex Financial has the legal right to initiate foreclosure proceedings on their Dallas home within forty-eight hours,” Voss said.

I looked at the text message from my mother again.

She had spent the last ten years choosing Dorian and Brielle over me.

When my father died, she barely waited six months before letting Dorian move into the house my father had built.

She had stood by while Dorian auctioned off my father’s personal belongings, claiming they were just clutter.

“They have no idea they are paying me,” I murmured.

“None,” Voss said. “To them, Apex is just a faceless corporation represented by a law firm in Delaware.”

“How did Dorian even get the cabin listing?” I asked.

“He forged your mother’s signature as a co-trustee,” Voss said. “He assumed I would simply process the paperwork without checking the trust registry.”

“That is fraud,” I said.

“It is,” Voss said. “But he is desperate, Maren. Brielle’s credit card bills have mounted, and Dorian’s latest real estate venture in the valley went under last month.”