“Just standard documents,” Thomas said, pulling a folded envelope from his inner coat pocket. “To ensure that Rebecca can’t interfere with your education or your estate. If you sign, the trust fund activates immediately.”

He laid the envelope on the table.

It was crisp, white, and modern.

It stood in stark contrast to the yellowed, wax-sealed envelope Rebecca had sent a photo of.

“You want me to sign away my rights to see Rebecca,” Caroline said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“I want to protect you from her,” Thomas insisted, his fingers tapping the table nervously.

Before Caroline could answer, my cell phone vibrated on the wooden tabletop.

The screen lit up with a text message from an unknown Fredericksburg number.

I picked it up and read the words on the screen.

*I am parked outside the cafe,* the message read. *I see him talking to you. Don’t sign anything. He is lying.*

I looked up, my eyes instantly darting to the glass door of the coffee shop.

Through the rain-streaked window, a rusty blue sedan was idling at the curb.