The younger attorney, Mr. Calloway, laid three documents across the SUV’s hood while the older one, Mr. Devlin, watched Gregory the way a man watches a fire he already knows how to put out. “The land beneath this house was placed in a protective trust by Beatrice eleven years ago,” Calloway said. “Rosalind holds a permanent beneficial interest. Any sale made without her verified written consent is automatically void, and control reverts to the trust.” Loretta’s smile cracked at the corners. “The sale is already finished,” she snapped. “Money changed hands this morning.”

“Money changing hands is not the same as lawful title,” Devlin replied, calm as still water. “And there is the second problem.” He turned to Gregory. “Someone signed Rosalind’s name on the sale authorization. We have the document. Rosalind was in another state, at a funeral, with a verifiable record of her location. That is forgery, and forgery on a real estate instrument is a felony.” Gregory’s mouth opened and closed. Loretta took one step back. And that was the moment the real black SUV, the one carrying the actual buyers, turned onto the street behind them.