The room seemed to tilt slightly.

I looked at the oil painting of Garrett hanging on the wall behind the desk.

He was smiling in the painting, his eyes crinkling at the corners just the way they did when he was happy.

It was the same look he gave me when we were eighteen, sitting on the tailgate of his truck, talking about the future.

*I told you I’d take care of you, El,* his voice seemed to whisper in the quiet of my mind.

Victoria’s face twisted with a rage so pure it made her look like a stranger.

“This is fraud!” she screamed, lunging toward the desk to grab the document.

Sheriff Miller stepped forward with surprising speed, his heavy hand catching her by the forearm.

“That’s enough, Victoria,” the Sheriff said, his voice hard as iron.

“Let go of me!” she shrieked, twisting against his grip.

“She’s a thief!”

“She stole my father’s mind!”

“She’s taking what belongs to us!”

“Your father made his decision, Victoria,” Sheriff Miller said, guiding her firmly toward the doorway.

“Now, I think it’s time for you and Charles to leave this house.”