Two days later, Mark drove his rusty sedan up the concrete driveway of his mother's suburban home.
He had felt a heavy knot of guilt in his stomach ever since walking out of the house on Tuesday.
Sarah sat in the passenger seat, staring silently at the framed American flag visible through the front window glass.
Sarah: Do you think we were too harsh on her? She looked really thin when we left.
Mark: She chose the money over us, Sarah. We had to make her see how much it hurt.
As they walked up the front steps, they noticed a sleek black sedan parked near the side garage door.
A well-dressed man in a navy blue suit stood on the porch, holding a thick leather briefcase in hand.
Lawyer: Are you Mark and Sarah? Evelyn's children?
Mark: Yes, we are. Who are you? A financial planner coming to count her cash?
Lawyer: My name is Arthur Vance. I am your mother's estate attorney and trust administrator.
Sarah frowned, looking at the lawyer's official ID badge hanging neatly from his front suit jacket pocket.
Sarah: An estate attorney? She always said she was working with a lawyer, but we never believed her.
Lawyer: I have been trying to reach her phone since yesterday morning. We finally secured the full court approval.
Mark pulled out his house key and unlocked the front door, stepping into the quiet, chilly living room.
The house was completely still, the air smelling faintly of old paper and dust under the overhead lights.
Mark walked toward the sofa and froze instantly, his heart stopping as he saw his mother lying completely motionless.
Mark: Mom? Mom, wake up!
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