Vanessa didn’t look back at our mother. She wrenched the passenger door open and climbed in.

“Vanessa, wait!” Margaret cried, reaching toward the door. “Where am I supposed to go? The bank sent a notice—”

“Figure it out, Mom,” Vanessa spat through the cracked window. “Call your favorite son.”

Robert slammed the SUV into reverse. The tires spun in the slush, kicking gray snow onto Margaret’s coat, and the vehicle peeled out of the driveway and disappeared down the street.

My mother stood alone in the freezing snow. The documents — the proof of her absolute ruin — fluttered around her boots like dead leaves. She dropped to her knees, clutching her chest, letting out a sound that was less a cry than a hollow, agonizing gasp.

“Daniel,” she choked out, looking up at me with terrified, tear-streaked eyes. “She took it all. I have nothing.”