The letter came on a Monday morning.
Emerie found it shoved halfway under her apartment door, unmarked but clearly official—thick envelope, no return address. Her name was misspelled.
Inside: a formal denial of her father's fire insurance claim, citing “intentional negligence," “code violations," and a footnote that suggested possible “arson investigation pending."
She read it three times.
Then drove straight to her father's apartment.
He opened the door with a weak smile and a towel around his neck.
“Hey, kiddo. I was just heading to physical therapy."
“You got the letter?"
He didn't answer. Just stepped aside and let her in.
“They're not just denying the claim," she said, pacing. “They're implying *you* started the fire."
“Let 'em," he said, lowering himself into a chair with a
