The Last Row

Adam's confession lasted four hours.

It was not heroic. It was not clean. He named wires he had moved, vendors he had created, debt calls he had ignored, and documents he had signed because Martin said family meant absorbing risk upward until it disappeared.

Victims did not forgive him. Elise did not ask them to.

By the end, Adam looked smaller and more real. That was better than charming.

Roslyn took the boxes into evidence. Greta wrote names on a whiteboard. Theo built the claim table on a borrowed laptop. Elise sat with each family long enough to hear one sentence about the person who had died before she asked for policy numbers.

That mattered. Not because it fixed anything. Because Vivian's ledgers had turned people into rows, and Elise refused to begin there.

Near evening, June brought Elise a paper cup of water.

"You look dead," June said.

"Too soon."

June's mouth twitched. "Maybe funny later."

"Maybe."

She sat beside Elise. Across the room, Ruby and Claire were arguing over whether June needed soup. It was quiet arguing. Maternal without ownership. June watched them like a person studying a new language.

"Do I have to choose?" June asked.

"No."

"Everyone says that, but papers always make people choose."

Elise looked at the claim table, the custody order, the account file. "Then we write better papers."

June leaned her head against the wall. "Grandma was awful."

"Yes."

"She saved some things."

"Yes."

"I hate that both are true."

"Welcome to family court."

June snorted.

The community room door opened. A courier stepped in with an envelope for Elise. Roslyn intercepted it, scanned it, and handed it over after deciding paper was not explosive.

The return address was the probate court.

Inside was a notice: emergency hearing on control of HartLine and the restitution account, 9 a.m. next day.

Petitioner: Silas Greer.

Greer was in custody and still filing.