Deborah’s eyes moved down the screen, and the color left her face one shade at a time. There, in her own words, was proof this had never been an oversight. She had personally emailed Bethany to strike my name from the cabin I had paid for. But it was the attachment below that made her hand tremble. She had forwarded Gerald’s trust letter to a cruise agent, which meant she knew the exact condition she was violating.

The table went silent. Aaron picked up my phone, read the email, then read the trust clause beneath it. I watched something shift in his face, the twelve-year-old boy finally gone. “You used the trust money,” he said slowly, “and you cut Renee out of the cabin she paid for.” Deborah opened her mouth to say “dear” again. This time nobody at the table let her finish.