The office was quiet, save for the hum of the fluorescent lights and the persistent drip of the

It was a rainy Sunday morning when my phone rang at 4:15 AM.

I bolted upright, my heart hammering against my ribs. In the middle of the night, a call that early always meant one thing: emergency. I grabbed the phone from the nightstand, seeing my mother’s name flashing on the screen.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” I answered, my voice rough with sleep.

“Ryan... please, you need to come,” my mother sobbed frantically on the other end of the line. “It’s Derek. He broke into the house. He’s smashing things in the study, and your father... your father collapsed.”

“I’m on my way! Call an ambulance right now!” I shouted, shaking Laura awake as I threw off the covers.

“What is it?” Laura asked, her eyes wide with panic.

“Derek broke into my parents’ house. Dad collapsed. Get dressed, we’re going right now.”

We didn't wait for coffee, we didn't wait to pack. I drove through the torrential downpour, breaking every speed limit on the empty highway, the wipers slapping frantically against the windshield. When we pulled into my parents’ driveway, an ambulance was already parked out front with its red lights flashing, casting eerie crimson reflections across the rain-slicked wet pavement.

Two paramedics were wheeling my father out on a stretcher, an oxygen mask strapped to his face. My mother followed close behind, wrapped in a blanket, shaking uncontrollably.

“Mom!” I yelled, jumping out of the car and running through the pouring rain. “Mom, what happened?”

“He came through the back window,” she wept, clutching my arm as the paramedics loaded my father into the back of the ambulance. “Derek demanded we sign new papers dropping the lawsuit. When Howard refused and told him the police were on the way, Derek started screaming, and your father just... he grabbed his chest and fell.”

“Where is Derek now?” I asked, my blood boiling with a fury I had never felt before in my life.

“He ran out the back door when he heard sirens,” she sobbed.

“Go with Mom in the ambulance, Laura,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I’ll meet you at Boston General.”

By the time I arrived at the hospital emergency room, my father was stable in the cardiac ICU. The doctors confirmed it was a severe stress-induced angina attack, but thankfully not a full cardiac arrest. He was resting, hooked up to a tangle of monitors, with my mother sitting by his bedside holding his weathered hand.

Later that afternoon, as I stepped out into the hospital corridor to grab a cup of coffee, my phone buzzed. It was an unknown number, but when I answered, a familiar, desperate voice hissed through the speaker.

“You think you’ve won, don't you, Ryan?” Derek snarled.

“Derek? Where the hell are you?” I demanded, stepping into an empty hallway.

“You destroyed my life! You turned Mom and Dad against me! You poisoned my son!” Derek’s voice was unhinged, high-pitched, vibrating with manic fury. “I’m not going to prison, Ryan. And you’re not going to inherit a damn thing. I’m burning it all down.”

“Derek, listen to me, you need to turn yourself in right now. The police are already looking for you for breaking and entering,” I warned.

“Let them look!” he screamed, and then the line went dead with a sharp click.

I stared at the phone screen, a cold shiver running down my spine. Burning it all down. What did that mean?