At my father’s funeral, my brothers stood beside his coffin and mocked the black dress I had borrowed. “Dad left everything to us,” the oldest whispered. “You’ll leave here with nothing.”

Miriam opened the leather file. “No, Grant. You turned his death into a transaction.”

She set copies of the new will on a table. Every guest watched as Detective Ramos asked my brothers to sit.

They refused.

Owen pointed at me. “She manipulated him for years. She lived in his house. She controlled his phone.”

“I installed fall sensors and medication reminders,” I said. “You installed a document scanner beside his bed.”