I looked at the live camera feed again.
Patricia was waving an enormous folder at one of the movers.
“What if they try to break in?”
“Call the police if they attempt entry or threaten anyone. I’m leaving now. I have the documents.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“All of them?”
“Every single one.”
I closed my eyes.
For three weeks, Victoria and I had been holding a secret.
A secret involving a financial document, a forged signature, and a transaction Ryan had desperately tried to conceal.
We hadn’t known when the information would become necessary.
Now, apparently, the Montgomery family had chosen the moment for us.
By the time I reached Westport, the street outside my home resembled a neighborhood scandal.
A police cruiser stood near the curb.
Neighbors watched from their windows.
One woman had come outside pretending to collect her mail.
A mover was sitting on a cardboard box looking profoundly irritated.
And Patricia Montgomery was arguing with a police officer.
“I am not trespassing!” she snapped. “This is my son’s property!”
The officer spoke calmly.
“Ma’am, the gate is locked. We’re asking everyone to remain outside while we establish what’s happening.”
Patricia spotted my car.
Her entire posture changed.
“Finally!”
I parked and stepped out.
The afternoon sunlight was warm against my face.
For a brief moment, I looked past the commotion toward the mansion.
My mansion.
The same house where my parents had helped me plant the first roses.
The same place where I had imagined raising children someday.
