They’re going to help us settle this like civilized adults.”

My stepfather, Brock Vantell, stood by the bay window with a glass of sparkling water.

My half-brother, Fergus, pretended to check his phone, glancing at me over it with the borrowed confidence of a man who had never once paid for his own mistakes.

One of the lawyers rose.

“Colonel Cardew, please have a seat.” My mother blinked at the rank, then recovered.

“She’s not here in any official capacity.