Mark sat at the dining table wearing a carefully built mask of tragic exhaustion, though the red mark from Bianca’s hand still shadowed his cheek.

His sister Susan sneered from the armchair. And beside Mark sat someone new — a slick, sweating man in a cheap suit, clutching a leather briefcase.

“You actually showed up instead of running like a coward,” Richard barked. “Mark told us everything. While we were grieving, you broke into the safe and stole Vivian’s financial documents. Have you no shame?”

I didn’t flinch. I took a seat near the door, my posture rigid, my hands folded in my lap.

“I reclaimed what was legally left to me, Richard.”

The slick man leaned forward with a predatory smile. “Mrs. Claire, I’m Mr. Vance, legal counsel for the family. You’d be wise to drop the tough act. We have grounds to pursue serious civil and criminal charges against you for elder neglect and abuse — for directly contributing to Vivian’s death.”