The gold crest embossed at the top of the page matched the seal on my father’s old leather ledger.

“Where would she go on two days’ notice?” I asked.

“That isn’t your concern, Elena,” Samuel said.

“She signed personal guarantees on shaky commercial loans and spent five years treating you like an unwanted maid in her home.”

I touched the thin gold band on my right index finger and looked at the signature line reserved for the trust manager.

I picked up the heavy brass fountain pen from its marble tray.