I pulled the phone closer to my ear, my chest tightening.

“What are you talking about, Dad?” I asked.

“Linda has had a copy of your signature for years, Mark,” he said.

“From when she helped you with your first flight school loans.”

The air in my study felt suddenly cold.

I looked down at the dark wood of my desk, my fingers tracing the edge.

“She used that to draft a durable power of attorney,” my father continued.

“Luke told me she had it notarized by a friend of hers in Broward County.”

“Why?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“They needed access to your accounts,” he said.

“Hannah and Luke are drowning in debt, and Linda wanted to solve it for them.”

“They didn’t just want you to watch the kids while they went to Costa Rica.”

“They needed you occupied so you wouldn’t check your balances.”

My heart hammered against my ribs.

I stood up from my desk and walked to the window.

Outside, the Miami skyline was bright, the sun reflecting off the glass of the neighboring towers.