I paid the driver in cash and told him to keep the change. I stood there for a moment in the darkness, letting the cold rain soak into my coat. I looked up at the house.

I bought this property three years ago for $4.5 million. It was a gift for Emily, but mostly it was intended as a sanctuary for Beatatrice and me in our twilight years. It was supposed to be quiet. It was supposed to be a home. But tonight, the windows were blazing with light. The bass from a sound system rattled the double oak front doors.

Expensive cars lined the driveway like a showroom. Ferraris, Porsches, Bentleys. It looked like a nightclub, not a home. I felt a surge of irritation. I had explicitly told Braden: no parties while I was gone. I wanted Beatatrice to have peace. I limped toward the front porch. My legs were still weak from months of bed rest and physical therapy.