“Smile, orphan,” my stepbrother sneered, filming as I scraped my mother’s ashes off the driveway.

The lender froze the application.

Then the piano buyer contacted me.

My mother’s name was engraved inside the lid. Searching her name led him to the obituary, then to me.

“Something felt wrong,” he said.

He sent screenshots of his messages with Celeste.

One read:

Pickup must happen before the girl gets a lawyer.

I already had one.

Marianne obtained an emergency order stopping them from disposing of disputed belongings.

The detectives secured a warrant after the lender’s records revealed payments to a company already tied to their investigation.

They recovered the blue folder from Dad’s study.

Inside were copies of fraudulent loan applications and a printed email from Grant.

Bring your ex if you want. Both of you need to understand what happens if this goes public.

My mother had been helping Dad trace the money.

The detectives told me little beyond that.

I learned to accept it.

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