By the time the lawyer answered, I had stopped shaking.
Not because I was calm.
Because something colder had taken over.
“Patel & Greene,” a crisp female voice said. “This is Priya Patel.”
“My name is Elena Rivera,” I said, staring straight at my parents’ porch while Chloe twirled her car key around one finger like a trophy. “My husband was Staff Sergeant Marcus Rivera. He died three years ago. His life insurance was in a separate account for our son. I think my family just stole sixty thousand dollars from it.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then her voice changed.
