My mother had seemed so isolated, so cut off from the doctors she had trusted for years.

I squeezed the brass key in my pocket, the sharp edges pressing into my palm.

“I am not giving you a dollar, Mark,” I said.

“Then I will see you in court,” Mark said. “And I will make sure the papers are delivered to every news outlet in the county.”

The study door opened again, slowly.

Patricia stood there, wearing her beige cashmere shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

Her gray hair was perfectly styled, but her face was pale.

“Mark,” Patricia said, her voice smooth and cold. “Do not argue with her.”

“She thinks she can throw me out with nothing, Mother,” Mark said, turning to her.

“She can try,” Patricia said, walking into the room.

She looked at me with a thin smile.

“But Claire knows what is best for the family name,” Patricia said.

“You helped him,” I said, looking at Patricia. “You knew what he was doing to my mother.”

“I helped protect this estate,” Patricia said. “From your mother’s poor decisions.”