“I am not signing this document,” I said, pushing the paper away from me.

I pushed the check aside too, sending it sliding toward the edge of the desk.

“And I am not leaving this house.”

“Eleanor, don’t do this,” Charles pleaded, stepping forward with his hands raised.

“This is the best offer you are going to get.”

“Without this money, you have nothing.”

“You have no claim to this property.”

Victoria turned to the Sheriff, her face flushed with anger.

“Arthur, enforce the order,” she demanded.

“The probate court gave us the authority to clear this house.”

“She is a trespasser now.”

“She has until five o’clock, and it is past four.”

Sheriff Miller did not move toward me.

He adjusted his belt, his eyes remaining calm.

“Actually, Victoria,” a new voice called out from the hallway.

The floorboards outside the door creaked again.

A tall, slender man in a dark gray overcoat walked into the study.

It was Thomas Vance.

He carried a thick leather briefcase, its brass latches scratched and dull from years of courtrooms.