“Yes,” I breathed. “I found them. What do they have to do with anything?”

“I got an alert from the county clerk three hours ago, right before the storm took the local grid out,” Marisol said, and her voice dropped into a register I’d never heard from her.

“Your father filed an emergency ex parte petition for a conservatorship over you this afternoon. He submitted medical documents claiming your breakdown was a severe psychotic break.

That you’re a danger to yourself. That you lack the capacity to own property.”

The floor tilted.

Conservatorship.