“We will pack your personal belongings,” the deputy told Gloria. “But you must leave the premises now.”

Gloria leaned against the mahogany banister, weeping silently.

She looked at the oil portrait of her father hanging over the fireplace.

“Can I keep the paintings?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “The art was purchased with funds stolen from the Ralston Enterprises pension bowl. It is currently being seized by the state.”

I watched as she slowly walked to the closet and pulled out a plain woolen coat.

She didn’t have any luggage.

She had only a small leather handbag that she clutched to her chest.

“You are a monster,” she whispered as she walked past me.

“I am a mother,” I said. “And I am protecting my daughters from the people who tried to destroy them.”

She walked down the stone steps, her slippers clicking softly on the concrete.

The wind caught her hair, blowing it across her face as she walked toward the taxi waiting at the end of the driveway.

She did not look back.

***

The house was quiet after the movers left with Gloria’s things.