I looked at the bracelet.
First Star.
“She would tell me not to give away my anger too cheaply.”
For the first time that evening, Martin almost smiled.
“That sounds like Josephine.”
“You knew her well?”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
“I handled some matters for her late in life,” he said.
“What matters?”
“Emily—”
“No.” My voice remained calm, but something in me had shifted. “Everyone has spent years deciding what I am ready to know. I am done being protected by silence.”
Martin folded his hands on the desk.
“I understand. But some answers are not mine to give.”
“Samuel Reed’s?”
His silence was answer enough.
I stood and walked to the little window overlooking the back alley. Rain had begun to fall, thin and silver beneath the security light. Across the alley, the bakery’s awning fluttered in the wind.
I could see my reflection in the glass: thirty-six years old, dark hair pinned loosely after a long day, a navy coat buttoned crookedly, gold bracelet bright against my wrist.
I looked tired.
But not broken.
“What happens next?” I asked.
“First, we secure your accounts. I have already frozen distribution changes pending verification. Tomorrow morning, I’ll connect you with Nadine Cole. She specializes in marital property, trust protection, and fraud.”
“Good.”
“Second, do not sign anything. Do not discuss finances with Ethan. Do not allow him into the office here.”
“He has keys.”
“Then we change the locks tonight.”
I turned from the window.
“Tonight?”
Martin gave me a steady look. “They believed you would be too stunned to act. That assumption may be your only advantage.”
I thought of Ethan’s hand resting on Brittany’s hair.
I thought of my mother’s calm face.
I thought of my father standing in the hallway, eyes lowered, choosing silence because silence had always cost him less than truth.