“Is it true?” Toby asked, his voice cracking.

“What they are saying on the news?”

“Your father made some very bad choices,” I said.

“He took money that did not belong to him.”

“Is he going to jail?” Liam asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“I think he is.”

They were silent for a long time.

I felt Toby’s head rest against my shoulder, his tears soaking through my blouse.

“What is going to happen to us?” Liam asked.

“We are going to stay right here,” I said.

“And we are going to rebuild.”

“The firm is going to be mine now.”

“I am going to run it.”

Liam looked at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“You?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Me.”

We sat there on the stairs as the afternoon light faded from the tall windows.

The next few weeks were a blur of meetings, depositions, and public statements.

The social invitations that had once filled our calendar stopped coming.

The phone at the house remained quiet, except for calls from our attorneys and the occasional family member.

I did not mind the silence.