I steadied myself against the open car door and stared at the word written across the folder again. Fairview. It wasn’t my name or Trevor’s, but the very place Colleen had apparently told her sister I would be living before Christmas. The moment she saw me reading it, her confidence vanished. She insisted it wasn’t what I thought, but I was already lifting the folder from the driveway. Inside was an admission form to the Fairview care facility, filled out in Colleen’s handwriting, with my name at the top and a signature line waiting for me. Beneath it were the documents I had refused to sign for months—the same papers that could give her financial control and transfer my house. Colleen had apparently been preparing something far more serious than I realized.

Then I noticed the green sticker on the folder, and everything suddenly made sense. These were copies of private records that only Marguerite and I were supposed to have. Colleen had taken them from Marguerite’s home. This wasn’t simply a family argument anymore. It looked like the beginning of a plan to have me declared incapable, move me into Fairview, and take control of my finances and home. I held the folder tightly and told Colleen that Ronnie was waiting nearby and that I would make one phone call before she could make hers. She glanced toward the street, then back at me, and her expression changed. For the first time, she seemed to realize that the woman she had described as confused had already uncovered more than she expected.