Thomas did not want to help Caroline.

He did not care about her college education or her future medical expenses.

He needed her trust fund to save himself from total ruin.

The trust had been established by my late husband’s estate when Caroline was a toddler.

It held nearly one and a half million dollars, strictly designated for Caroline’s care.

As her sole guardian, I was the only trustee.

But if Thomas could convince a judge to name him co-conservator, he would have equal say.

He could sign off on loans using the trust as collateral.

He could drain it to pay his creditors and keep his office open.

I felt a cold knot form in my stomach.

The man who had abandoned his daughter because of her physical difference was now returning to steal from her.

“Grandma?”

I turned around quickly.

Caroline was standing in the doorway of the office.

She was wearing her oversized gray sweatshirt.

Her left sleeve was pinned neatly back.

Her right hand was holding a black notebook and a mechanical pencil.

Her gray eyes were sharp behind her wire-rimmed glasses.