“Mom came into my room last night after you’d gone,” Ethan said, looking toward the diner window, where cold autumn rain had begun to streak the glass.

“What did she tell you?” I asked.

“She had a stack of yellow stationery with her,” Ethan said.

“She told me you were going to get tired of fighting Dad’s lawyer.”

“I’m not getting tired,” I said.

“She said everybody has a price, Madison,” Ethan said, his voice sinking low enough that the waitress going by with the coffee pot couldn’t hear.

“She said if she offered you enough money, you’d go back to your base and leave us alone.”