I reached into my pocket, my thumb feeling the cold, smooth screen of my phone. The voice recorder app had been running since I stepped through the front door.
I pushed the door wide open.

The hinges gave a sharp, agonizing creak.
David’s smile vanished instantly. Sarah dropped her champagne glass, the crystal shattering across the hardwood floor as the liquid soaked into the rug. They both stared at me as if a ghost had just walked out of the shadows—haggard, thin, but holding a phone that was glowing bright red with an active recording.
“Hello, David,” I whispered, my voice sounding steadier than I ever thought possible. “I believe you have some money that belongs to my family.”