My dress uniform hung in a garment bag in the back of my car, a banner I wasn’t ready to unfurl.

The entryway smelled like an ambush.

Three black SUVs sat out front.

There were no aunts, no cousins, none of the usual audience my mother assembled when she wanted a scene witnessed.

In the dining room, around the long table, sat five strangers with leather briefcases, legal pads, and an open laptop.

Five attorneys.

My mother met me with a thin, practiced smile.

“I’m so glad you came, sweetheart.” “Who are these people?” “Professionals.