By six o’clock, the apartment was quiet, the blue light of dusk fading behind the kitchen window.
Liam was asleep in the back room, and Maya was resting on the sofa with a book she had not had the peace to read in months.
I sat at the wooden desk in the corner of our living room, the small lamp casting a circle of warm yellow light over my hands.
On the desk sat the final manila folder from Julian’s office.
It contained the official court orders, the bank statements showing the restored personal accounts, and the signed clearance from the state engineering board.
My professional license was safe.
I took the documents and sorted them into three neat piles.
In the first pile was the state’s official letter exonerating my firm from the fraudulent subcontracts Mark had created.
In the second pile was the structured settlement for my mother’s long-term care facility in upstate New York.
