My stepmother called me at the end of the day, her voice so smug I could practically hear the smile on her lips, and told me that from now on I would never be allowed to set foot in the family beach house again because she had already changed every lock.

Victoria gave a bright and brittle laugh that sounded like breaking glass. “This is absolutely ridiculous because this house belongs entirely to my husband, Harrison Beaumont.”

Lydia opened her leather folder and pulled out a stack of documents. “No, Victoria, it most certainly does not belong to him.”

She did not raise her voice, yet something in her tone made every other sound on the property fall away into silence. The gulls overhead and the distant crash of the surf seemed to fade as she held the papers out.

I stood beside my car with my mother’s envelope in my hands and felt a sliver of steadiness returning to me for the first time. The older officer stepped forward and looked at Victoria with a confused expression.

“Ma’am, you told dispatch that your stepdaughter had threatened to force entry onto your private property,” the officer said. “She has indeed done that,” Victoria snapped as she pointed a finger at me as though outrage could still save her reputation.

“She is unstable and vindictive, and she has been harassing my family for years,” Victoria added with a sneer. “That is an interesting claim,” Lydia said as she lifted a specific document from her folder.