Four hours earlier, I had used that pen in the reception hallway to sign the denial, ending my brother’s financial demands once and for all.

Next to the brass clock lay the blue leather checkbook and the folded 2020 bank receipt I had pulled from the administrative records file.

I smoothed the paper flat on the blotter and looked at the forty-thousand-dollar transfer line one last time before putting both documents into the metal lockbox in my trunk.

My phone vibrated on the blotter, lighting the dark wood with a pale glow.

The screen showed a single unread text from Arthur’s number.