“No,” I said. “According to Rebecca, he found out about the educational trust. He needs a co-conservatorship to access the funds, supposedly for your college expenses, but the document she attached shows he has substantial debts in Richmond.”

Caroline did not cry; she did not even look angry.

She simply leaned forward, her analytical mind already processing the data, dissecting the situation like a math problem.

“He wants the money to clear his own name,” she said.

“It looks that way,” I said, tapping the notary’s seal. “If he signs the co-conservatorship papers with me, he will have equal say over how those funds are distributed.”

“And he thinks we don’t know,” she said.

“He thinks I am an old woman who is tired of fighting him, and he thinks you are a child who wants a father,” I said.

Caroline looked down at her lap, her right fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat against her knee.

“He called earlier today, while you were at the grocery store,” she said.

My breath caught. “What did he say?”