“Signed by Judge Albright at eight o’clock this morning,” Thomas added.

Mark stared at the documents as if they were a physical blow.

“You can’t evict me,” Mark said, his voice dropping into a desperate register. “I live here. My name is on the mail.”

“The Hartwell estate is held in a private trust,” Thomas explained, stepping closer. “A trust of which Claire is the sole trustee and beneficiary.”

He placed the papers against Mark’s chest.

Mark did not take them, so Thomas let them slide down into the dirt on the porch.

“You have no legal right to set foot on these grounds,” Thomas said. “Any attempt to do so will result in immediate arrest for trespassing.”

Mark looked at the papers lying in the dirt near his boots.

A gust of wind caught the top sheet, folding it back to reveal his name printed in bold black ink.

“Claire,” he said, his eyes finding mine through the smoke. “Claire, listen to me. We can talk about this.”

I did not answer.

I looked at his face, searching for any trace of the man I had married five years ago.