Sign the house over to your brother, Mom. You’re clearly not stable enough to

Derek laughed. ‘Mom, don’t make this weird. Madison and I already talked to a lawyer. You forgot to pay the gardener twice last month. That’s early dementia. We’re trying to help.’ I reached under the table and pulled out a slim leather folder. Madison’s wine glass froze halfway to her lips. ‘Funny you mention the lawyer,’ I said. ‘Because three weeks ago, my attorney called me. Apparently someone using power of attorney I never signed tried to refinance this house for eight hundred thousand dollars.’ Derek’s face drained. ‘That’s… that’s a mistake—’ ‘It’s not,’ I said. ‘The signature was forged. Madison, your notary stamp was on it. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize my own handwriting?’ Caleb’s mouth fell open. I slid the folder toward Derek. Inside were copies of the forged documents, bank correspondence, and a letter from the district attorney’s office. ‘I didn’t forget to pay the gardener, Derek. I stopped paying him because I hired a private investigator instead. He’s very thorough.’ Derek stood up so fast his chair tipped backward. ‘Mom, please, we can talk about this—’ ‘We are talking,’ I said gently. ‘I’ve already changed my will. The house, the investment accounts, your father’s vineyard shares — all of it goes to Caleb and the scholarship fund I’m starting in your father’s name. You get one thing.’ I slid a small envelope across the table. He opened it with shaking hands. It was a bill. ‘That’s your half of tonight’s dinner,’ I said. ‘I’m not stable enough to keep covering grown men who steal from their mother.’ Madison burst into tears. Derek whispered, ‘You wouldn’t press charges. I’m your son.’ I picked up my wine, took a slow sip, and looked him dead in the eyes. ‘Sweetheart, you stopped being my son the moment you signed my name.’ Caleb stood up quietly, walked around the table, and kissed the top of my head. Outside, headlights swept the driveway. The detective was right on time. I’d asked him to come for pie.