I was in a horrific accident and left unconscious. The doctors called my parents—they said…

The security company confirmed the cameras were operational. Samantha and I settled in at her apartment to watch the feed on my laptop. At exactly 2.03 p.m., my parents’ Mercedes pulled into the driveway.

The plan was in motion, and there was no turning back. Through the security cameras, I watched my parents and Allison approach grandmother’s front door. My father looked annoyed, checking his watch repeatedly.

My mother wore her charity event smile, the one that never reached her eyes. Allison hung back slightly, her expression unreadable. The key isn’t working, my father complained, jiggling the doorknob.

Did you try the back door? My mother suggested. I shouldn’t have to try the back door. This is my mother’s house.

Was, Allison corrected quietly, was her house. My father shot her a look before pulling out his phone. After a brief conversation, a locksmith arrived.

I watched as he opened the door, had my father sign some paperwork, and departed. Finally, my mother said, stepping inside, Richard, check if the silver is still here. I want to make sure Rebecca hasn’t already emptied the place.

The casual accusation made my blood boil. Samantha placed a hand on my shoulder. Remember why we’re doing this, she murmured.

I nodded, focusing on the screens as my family moved through my grandmother’s house. Everything looks the same, Allison commented, running her fingers along the antique sideboard in the hallway. Mother always did have good taste, my mother admitted, examining a crystal vase.

This would look perfect in our foyer. We’re here for your father’s childhood mementos, Allison reminded her. Not to shop.

Don’t be naive, my mother snapped. Rebecca is never going to recover enough to claim this inheritance. The judge will award guardianship to us, and then everything here will be ours anyway.

She’s in physical therapy now, Allison said. Her doctors say she’s making remarkable progress. Well, her brain injury is another matter, my father interjected, coming down the stairs.

The silver is all there, Margaret. I checked the master bedroom too. Nothing seems disturbed.

Has anyone actually visited her recently? Allison asked. To see how she’s doing? My parents exchanged a glance. The hospital staff have been very uncooperative, my mother said primly.

Besides, you know how Rebecca is. She’s always been so independent. Too independent, my father muttered.

If she’d listened to me about that driving route. Are you seriously blaming her for getting hit by a drunk driver? Allison sounded incredulous. Of course not, my mother soothed.

Your father is just upset. This has been hard on all of us. They moved into the dining room, where my letter waited on the polished mahogany table.

What’s this? My father picked up the envelope. My name was written on the front in my grandmother’s handwriting. James had used an old birthday card as reference.

It’s addressed to Rebecca, Allison pointed out. Well, she’s not here, is she? My mother plucked it from my father’s hands and tore it open. As she began reading, her face drained of color.

What? What is it? My father demanded. Wordlessly, she handed him the letter. He skimmed it, his expression darkening with each page.

This is outrageous, he spluttered finally. Lies and manipulations. What does it say? Allison reached for the letter, but my father held it away.

Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Family business. I am family, Allison insisted, snatching the letter from his hand…