My father and Julian followed, closing the door behind them, shutting out the cold afternoon.

I didn’t back away. I stood under the hallway light and held the folder steady.

Julian leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, though his thumbs had stopped moving across his screen. “Maya, we don’t have time for a trip down memory lane about Ethan’s paranoia.

The state is threatening to freeze the restaurant’s liquor license by Friday. We need forty grand to clear the lien. You just got Ethan’s life insurance payout.

Don’t act like you’re hurting.”

“The life insurance for my husband and my seven-year-old daughter,” I said.