“And he never said a word to me,” I said.

“He did not want you carrying his anxiety while you were managing his daily prescription doses,” Samuel said.

“He wanted the law to do the heavy lifting when the time came.”

I looked down at the certificate, tracing my maiden name printed in faded blue ink across the heavy paper header.

“What happens to Julian now?” I asked.

“The county prosecutor receives the bank fraud files at nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” Samuel said.

“Melissa Grant has already submitted the nineteen wire transfer logs to the state investigator.”