“She is an active co-conspirator.”

I looked at the blank screen of my phone, the silence of the blacked-out video feed hanging over us.

“There is one option,” Voss said, opening his briefcase and pulling out a heavy, cream-colored document.

“I drafted this when we first suspected Dorian’s movements.”

“It is an immediate, irrevocable forfeiture of all her claims to the Calder family trust.”

“If she signs this, she surrenders her status as trustee and beneficiary.”

“Dorian’s legal authority over her assets instantly corporate-dissolves.”

“And she avoids prosecution?” I asked.

“If she signs it now, before the transfer goes through, she can claim she acted under duress and cooperated with the estate’s recovery,” Voss said.

“But she will have nothing left from your father’s estate.”

“Let’s go,” I said, grabbing my car keys from the table.

The drive up the winding mountain road was silent, save for the crackle of the sheriff’s radio.

The pine trees whipped past in the headlights, dark and imposing against the night sky.

Voss sat in the passenger seat, holding the legal document in his lap like a shield.