At 9:30 AM, two unmarked law enforcement sedans pulled onto the gravel driveway of my father’s home.
Julian was standing near the front window, nursing a cup of black coffee, when the cars came to a stop. He scoffed, setting his mug down on the kitchen counter.
“Who is blocking the driveway?” he asked, annoyed. “I’m supposed to meet the real estate agent for the lake cabin closing in an hour.”
“The cabin you already sold, Julian?” I asked smoothly, closing the folder of forged documents on the breakfast table.
He spun around, his brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”
Chloe came out of the kitchen holding a basket of folded laundry, her face twisting into a sneer as she looked at me. “Don’t mind her, Julian. She’s just upset because she isn’t getting a cut of the estate.”
Before Julian could answer, the front door was struck three times with heavy, methodical force.
“State Police and Adult Protective Services,” a deep voice echoed through the oak door. “Open the door immediately.”
Chloe dropped the laundry basket. Julian went pale, his eyes darting frantically toward me, then back to the foyer.
“Did you call the police?!” Julian shouted, taking a step toward me, his hands clenching into fists. “What did you tell them, you crazy bitch?!”
