Thomas did not say a word.

He opened his leather briefcase, pulled out a heavy laptop, and flipped the screen open.

The blue light illuminated the deep lines on his face.

He took the drive from my hand and plugged it into the side port.

We sat in silence as his fingers clicked against the trackpad.

“My God,” Thomas whispered.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It is a complete ledger of the estate’s liquid assets,” he said.

“And a folder labeled ‘Distribution.'”

He opened a file, and a series of scanned documents appeared on the screen.

I saw my mother’s signature at the bottom of a trust amendment.

The handwriting was shaky, but it looked like hers.

“Is that the forgery?” I asked.

“Look at the date,” Thomas said, pointing to the screen.

“This was allegedly signed on November fourteenth.”

“Your mother was in a medically induced coma on November fourteenth.”

A cold rage settled deep in my stomach.

“He did this while she was dying,” I said.

“He did,” Thomas said.

“And there are text messages here between Mark and his mother.”