She had wanted the company, or the fortune, or the belonging that she thought either of those would finally buy her.

She got none of it.

There was no fortune left to inherit; it was evidence now, or forfeit, or gone.

There was no company to claim; there was a shell being dismantled by federal receivers.

And there was no family waiting to fold her in, because the family was indicted or dead or, in my case, done.

She had spent thirty years believing that if she could just tear down the thing that had excluded her, she would finally be inside it.