On her old phone, in messages someone had tried to delete, were bank routing numbers, legal appointments, and a photograph of a document carrying her signature — her signature, but trembling, wrong, the hand of someone signing at gunpoint without a gun in the frame.

My name was on the papers too, beneath a signature I had never made.

The family property.

My investments.

The small logistics company Ingrid and I had built from nothing before I deployed.

All of it transferred into a shell entity under Torsten’s sole control while I was on the other side of the world.