Patricia didn't wait for me to answer. She was standing on my doorstep when I pulled up. “What have you done to my son?” she shouted before I'd even got out of the car. “He called me crying! You've stolen his company!”

A neighbour's curtain twitched.

“Come inside, Patricia,” I said. “You'll want to sit down for this.”

“I'm not setting foot in—”

“Then stay on the doorstep. But you should know whose doorstep it is.”

That stopped her.

I went inside and came back with one sheet of paper. A copy of the property title. Owner: Grace Elizabeth Hart.

“My father bought this house as a wedding present,” I said. “In my name. Daniel never read that paperwork either.”

She read it twice. Her lips moved.

“And the allowance he sends you every month,” I added gently. “The two thousand pounds? It came from the company, listed as ‘consultancy'. I'm afraid the auditors will ask about that too.”

All the colour drained out of her face.

“You little—” she began.

“Careful,” I said. “Leo's home.”

He was standing in the hall behind me. He'd heard everything.

Patricia turned and walked back to her car without another word. For the first time in ten years, she didn't get the last one.