Malcolm Ellison, one of the most feared estate-litigation attorneys in the Pacific Northwest, came through the door carrying two thick portfolios, and behind him came two uniformed deputies from the sheriff’s department and an investigator from the state’s Elder Financial Protection Division.

And Harrison stepped out from behind the privacy curtain, where he had been standing the whole time, and took his place beside my bed like a wall that had decided to stand between me and the weather.

Trent’s mouth fell open.

“Who — who are you people?” “My name is Malcolm Ellison,” the attorney said, laying a stack of court filings across the foot of my bed.

“And three hours ago, we filed an emergency injunction before Judge Patricia Merrow, contesting your petition for conservatorship over your mother.” “This is a private family matter!” Bianca shrieked.