For several seconds, I felt nothing.

Then everything hit together.

Anger.

Grief.

Humiliation.

“You stole one hundred eighty-nine thousand dollars from me?”

“I raised you!”

Mom’s voice rose.

“I fed you. I clothed you. Do you have any idea what children cost?”

Grandpa slammed his palm onto the desk.

“She was a child! **You don’t invoice your child against her inheritance!**”

Mom flinched.

Ava stood completely still.

Then something unexpected happened.

She turned toward Mom.

“What about mine?”

Mom’s silence was answer enough.

Ava’s voice cracked.

“You spent mine too.”

“You benefited from it.”

“I didn’t know!”

“Well, now you do.”

Ava looked physically sick.

For the first time, we weren’t rivals.

We were two daughters uncovering the same betrayal.

But Grandpa wasn’t finished.

“The stolen items from the farmhouse,” he said. “Why?”

Mom wiped her face.

“We needed money.”

“For what?”

She said nothing.

Grandpa tapped the hotel location on the tracking map.

“Who is Daniel Mercer?”

Mom froze.

I recognized the name vaguely.

A real-estate developer.

Ava looked confused.

Grandpa continued.

“The SUV stopped at a hotel where Mercer was attending a development conference. Two days later, you went to the county records office. Yesterday, you went to the farmhouse.”

Mom abruptly stood.

“We should leave.”

“No,” Grandpa said.

“Now.”

He opened another folder.

Inside were document copies.

Property surveys.

A proposed purchase agreement.

And a signature.

Grandpa’s signature.

Except I knew immediately it wasn’t his.

“You forged this?” I whispered.

Mom looked toward Ava.

Ava backed away.

“Don’t look at me.”

Grandpa’s voice turned icy.

“You attempted to sell the farmhouse.”

Mom exploded.

“It’s falling apart! You don’t use it! The land alone is worth almost three million dollars. Mercer was willing to buy everything.”

“It isn’t yours.”

“It was going to become mine!”

“No.”

That single word silenced her.

Grandpa leaned forward.

“The farmhouse was never going to you.”

Mom stared.

He pointed toward the trust document in front of me.

“It belongs to Amelia.”

My breath caught.

“What?”

“Technically,” Grandpa said, “it has belonged to you since your grandmother