I was speaking to someone beginning to realize that she’d been manipulated too.

Four days later, I returned to Arlington.

My penthouse had been cleaned.

The damaged office door remained closed, its surface still marked by the attempted entry.

I stood in front of it for a long time.

My father had wanted that door opened because he couldn’t tolerate being denied access.

It reminded me of my childhood.

Whenever I achieved something, he found a way to make it about family obligations.

Whenever I said no, I became ungrateful.

Whenever Paige needed something, I was supposed to sacrifice.

That afternoon, my attorney Elise Morgan arrived with additional financial records.

She’d discovered questionable estate documents and acknowledgments bearing signatures that appeared to imitate mine and Paige’s.

There was also evidence suggesting someone had used my identifying information in connection with an old credit account.

Suddenly, difficulties I’d experienced with my credit years earlier began to make sense.