He stood so quickly that his chair scraped backward.
“You had no right.”
The bell rang again.
A fist struck the front door.
“County Sheriff’s Department!”
Chloe’s face lost all color.
Julian moved toward me.
I remained seated.
“Don’t,” I said.
He stopped.
For the first time that evening, he seemed to see me clearly—not as his absent sister, not as the guilty daughter he could manipulate, but as the prosecutor who had spent half her life dismantling lies more sophisticated than his.
The pounding came again.
“Open the door!”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“You’re destroying this family.”
“No,” I said. “I’m documenting who did.”
He opened the door.
Sheriff Daniel Mercer stood on the porch with two deputies. Behind them were an investigator from Adult Protective Services and a woman carrying a medical bag.
Mercer held up a folded document.
“Julian Vance?”
“Yes.”
“We have an emergency protective order concerning Margaret Vance. You and Chloe Vance are prohibited from contact with her pending investigation. You are required to leave the premises immediately.”
“This is insane,” Chloe shouted. “She’s confused!”
The APS investigator stepped forward.
“My name is Renee Dalton. We need to speak with Mrs. Vance privately.”
