The printer fed out the fake pages one by one.

I had typed them up the night before at the kitchen table.

Inside I put four pages of fake estate schedules, made-up balances, made-up account totals, the sort of thing a jittery heir might keep at home.

I paper-clipped an old hardware store receipt to the back so it would pass for a bank slip.

I didn’t put the real trust schedules in.

Those were already in a box under my bed, waiting for Olivia’s office.