“And if she refuses?” I asked.

“Then she goes down with Dorian,” Voss said. “And the state will seize her assets anyway as part of the criminal forfeiture.”

I looked at the window, my reflection staring back at me against the dark glass.

It was a cold, hard choice, but my mother had made her own choices when she signed those papers.

Before I could speak, my phone began to vibrate violently in my hand.

I pulled it out, expecting another message from Voss, but the screen showed an incoming video call.

It was my mother.

I looked at Voss, then at Deputy Miller.

“Answer it,” Miller said quietly. “Let’s see what she has to say.”

I swiped the screen and held the phone up.

My mother’s face appeared on the display.

She was sitting in the dimly lit living room of the Austin house, her face pale and her eyes red from crying.

In the background, through the open hallway door, I could hear the faint, angry sound of Dorian’s voice shouting at someone on another line.