MY MOTHER CALLED MY WIFE “DRAMATIC” AFTER I FOUND HER HALF-FROZEN AND BRUISED IN THE SNOW, BUT WHEN I SAW THE OPEN WINE FROM MY FATHER’S PRIVATE CELLAR AND THE DOCUMENTS THEY WANTED SIGNED, I KNEW THIS WAS PLANNED.

My mother didn't flinch. She leaned her shoulder casually against the study doorframe, the heavy silver candlestick catching the dim light of my flashlight.

“Arrest warrant?” A cold, bitter laugh escaped her lips. “On what grounds, Ethan? That your fragile, unstable wife willingly signed over property rights to the woman who raised her? The county recorder’s office processed the paperwork fair and square. It’s legal. It’s filed. You have nothing.”

I stepped away from the desk, closing the distance between us until the beam of my flashlight illuminated the smug, unrepentant expression on her face.

“She didn't sign it willingly,” I said quietly, each word measured like a ticking fuse. “She signed it because you and Natalie starved her, locked her out in the snow, and tortured her while I was half a world away defending the country you’re currently robbing.”

“She is mentally unfit!” Mother snapped, her mask finally slipping to reveal the venom underneath. “She couldn't handle the house, she couldn't handle the responsibilities, and she certainly couldn't handle being a soldier’s wife! We did her a favor by taking the burden off her hands.”

“The only burden in this house is you,” I said, lifting the folder. “And your little forgery is about to buy you a jail cell.”

Before she could reply, heavy footsteps echoed loudly from the front foyer.