I looked at the portrait of my mother hanging above the fireplace.

Her painted eyes seemed to look down on us with a quiet, sorrowful pity.

“You won’t take this house, Mark,” I said.

“I will take half of it,” Mark said. “Or I will burn it down in legal fees.”

He reached out and picked up his buzzing phone.

He did not answer it, but silenced it with his thumb.

Patricia walked over to him and touched his arm.

“We should leave, Mark,” she said.

“We are not leaving,” Mark said.

“The investigator is here, Mark,” Patricia whispered.

The man in the grey suit had not moved from the doorway.

“He can watch all he wants,” Mark said.

He looked at Thomas.

“I want my personal files from the study,” Mark said.

“They have been secured,” Thomas said.

“They are my property,” Mark said.

“They are evidence,” Thomas replied.

Mark took a step toward the door that led to the hallway.

“I’m going to get my things,” Mark said.

“No, you are not,” Thomas said.

“Try and stop me,” Mark said.

He moved past the investigator.