Gregory held up one finger. “Your grandfather’s condition is simple, Elliot. You must attend the reading of his will tomorrow morning, and your father must be sitting in the room.” My mouth went dry. “Why would he want that?” Gregory glanced at the end of the alley. “Because your father has been stealing from you since you were two years old, and Arthur finally had proof.”

Before I could breathe, headlights swept across the dumpsters. A black sedan rolled to a stop, and the driver’s door opened. My father stepped out in his church coat, smiling the way he smiled at strangers. “There you are, son,” he called. “We need to talk about the inheritance.” Behind him, his wife climbed out holding a thick folder of papers, and my stomach dropped.