“You think you’ve won because of a piece of paper, Avery,” she said.

She stepped closer, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

The smell of her heavy perfume, something sweet and expensive, drifted over the desk.

“Your uncle was eighty-two years old,” she said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “He was on heavy medication for the last six months of his life.”

“He was completely lucid,” Malcolm said, his voice calm but firm. “I have the medical evaluations to prove it.”

My mother waved her hand dismissively, her gold bracelets clinking together.

“Doctors can be bought, Malcolm, and so can estate lawyers,” she said.

She looked back at me, a cold smile touching her lips.

“We will file the papers by tomorrow morning,” she said. “An emergency injunction to freeze the transfer of the estate.”

“On what grounds?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

“Undue influence,” she said simply. “Elder abuse. Isolation.”

She ticked the points off on her manicured fingers.

“We will tell the press that you locked him away in that cabin,” she continued. “That you kept his own brother and sister-in-law from seeing him while he was dying.”