Naomi and I returned to Manhattan the next afternoon.

Peter drove us, but Naomi insisted he wait downstairs.

“If voices rise, we leave,” she told me.

“You are here for documents, not permission.”

Michael opened the apartment door.

“You brought a lawyer?”

“I brought someone who understands signatures.”

Carol stood beside the sofa, while Jessica remained at the dining table.

The same plastic container from the night before sat beside her purse.

Jessica pointed at Naomi.

“This is a family matter.”

Naomi placed a folder on the table.

“It became a legal matter when someone used Althia’s identification.”

Michael shut the door.

“Nobody stole anything.”

“Then explain the mortgage,” I said.

Carol lifted her chin.

“We were protecting this family.”

“By putting three hundred and ten thousand dollars against my home?”

“Our home,” Michael corrected.

I faced him.

“Did I sign the papers?”

“You agreed that we would help Jessica rebuild.”

“I agreed to pay for groceries while she found work.”

Jessica stood.

“My company is work.”

“JLC Holdings received two hundred and ten thousand dollars.

What company?”

“A lifestyle consultancy.”

Naomi opened the folder.

“It was registered nine days before the mortgage closed.

It has no employees, no clients, and no reported revenue.”

Jessica’s face hardened.

“You had no right to investigate me.”

“You used Althia’s money,” Naomi said.

“That gave us every right.”

Carol stepped between us.

“Jessica needed a fresh start.

Michael had debts, and I had covered this household for years.”

I looked at Michael.

“What debts?”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Investments went wrong.”

“How much?”

“Fifty-two thousand.”

“And the remaining forty-eight thousand went to Carol.”

Carol’s mouth tightened.

“Repayment.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For raising a son who spent seven years catering to you.”

Naomi closed the folder.

“We’re done.

Althia will contest the mortgage and request a forensic review.”

Michael caught my wrist before I turned.

He released it when Naomi stepped forward.

“Don’t do this,” he said.

“Ratify the loan.

I’ll give you the divorce uncontested.”

“You suggested the divorce before you knew I had found the mortgage.”

“You’ll destroy Tony’s stability.”

“No.

Jessica did that when she forged my name.”

A chair scraped behind us.

Tony stood in the hallway, his school backpack hanging from one shoulder.

Jessica rushed toward him.

“Go to your room.”

Tony backed away.

“You wore Aunt Althia’s blue coat.”

“Tony, stop.”

“You practiced her signature at night.

I saw you.”

Jessica grabbed his backpack strap, but he twisted free.

“He’s confused,” she said.

“He makes things up when he’s anxious.”

Tony’s lower lip trembled.

“I didn’t make up the recording.”

Every adult in the room stopped moving.

“What recording?” Michael asked.

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