At my daughter’s funeral, my son-in-law pointed toward his three girls and said,

"Henry! We came to see my beautiful angels!"

Richard pushed past me the second I opened the door, his voice dripping with synthetic sweetness. Chloe hovered in the foyer, refusing to take off her designer sunglasses.

The girls were sitting on the living room rug. The moment Richard entered, Lily shrank back. Maya discreetly slipped her phone out, hitting the record button beneath a throw pillow.

"What do you want, Richard?" I asked coldly.

"I've been doing some thinking," Richard sighed, running a hand through his hair to feign exhaustion. "I was harsh at the cemetery. Grief makes us crazy, right? I want the girls back. A family should stay together."

"You told two hundred people you were putting them in foster care," I reminded him.

Chloe scoffed loudly. "Babe, tell him the deal."

Richard shot her a warning glare before turning to me. "Here’s the reality, Henry. You’re an old man. You can't raise three kids. Sign over Clara's trust to me today, and I’ll let you keep custody. If you don't, I'll take you to court. I'm their biological father. A judge will give them to me, and you'll never see them again."

He was blackmailing me for Clara’s money.

Maya locked eyes with me from the floor. We had the USB drive. We had the proof. But if I handed it to the police now, Richard might flee with the funds he already stole. We needed him trapped in a public space where his carefully crafted image would burn to the ground.