Riley's POV

The lawyer's office smells like lemon fragrance, my absolute worst. Albert is younger than he sounded on the phone, maybe thirty, with kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he says, gesturing for Brett and me to sit.

"Thank you." I don't correct him about it not really being a loss. Some truths are too complicated for strangers.

"Mr. Davidson's affairs are... minimal. No assets to speak of, some debts. The car was totaled, insurance will barely cover the ...