I came home from the funeral to tell my parents and sister that my husband had left me $8.5m and 6 Manhattan lofts. When I walked into the house, I overheard my parents talking. What they were saying… made my blood run cold.

I merge onto the highway. 2 and a half hours to Manhattan. The drive feels shorter than it did 2 weeks ago. Maybe because this time I’m driving towards something instead of away.

The loft is quiet when I get home. Sun through the tall windows. Nathan’s drafting table in the corner, still covered in paper cranes. On the kitchen counter, flowers from Maggie, white peianies, no card needed, an envelope from James. Nathan would be proud.

And a text from Ryan Alcott.

I’m sorry for what my ex- fiance’s family did to you. Thank you for the truth.

I set my bag down. I’m home.

Three months pass. Here is what happens.

Gerald pleads guilty to embezzlement from a nonprofit organization, a class E felony under New York law. His attorney negotiates full restitution of $47,200 to the church in exchange for a reduced sentence. The judge grants 3 years of probation and 200 hours of community service. Gerald Hobbes, honorary treasurer for 12 years, now picks up litter on the county highway every Saturday morning.

Dr. Raymond Voss’s medical license is permanently revoked by the New York State Office of Professional Medical Conduct. The board cites a pattern of inappropriate dual relationships and willful participation in a fraudulent competency evaluation.

The DA’s office opens a separate investigation into conspiracy to commit fraud. Voss hires a criminal defense attorney. His practice closes.

Patricia is not charged. There isn’t enough direct evidence to prove criminal conspiracy. She never signed the guardianship petition and her name isn’t on any financial documents. But she loses something the law can’t restore. The neighbors stop calling. The church removes her from every committee. Mrs. Carol, who once called her a saint, crosses the street when she sees Patricia coming. In a town of 8,000, social death is its own sentence.

Kloe moves back to Ridgewood. The engagement is over. Ryan blocked her number, returned her belongings in a box, and told their mutual friends exactly why. She owes $32,000 in credit card debt with no one left to bail her out.

I get promoted to associate director at the museum. I use part of Nathan’s estate to establish the Nathan Terrell Memorial Scholarship for emerging artists, first generation college students who don’t have anyone coming to their graduation.