I came back home to lay my grandmother to rest. After the funeral, my father pressed a pen into my hand. “Sign this—it’s just inheritance paperwork.” As I leaned closer, I noticed my stepmother’s fingers shaking, something concealed in her clenched palm. She smiled sweetly and murmured, “Be a good girl… just sign.” A chill ran through me. I set the pen down and returned her smile. “I think I’ll read it carefully first.” Because in that instant, I understood the truth—the funeral hadn’t been the main event. It was only a dry run for what they were planning to do tonight.

Because the time to question everything is exactly when people tell you not to.

I reached for my phone under the table, quietly hit record, and kept my voice calm.
“Where’s the will?” I asked.

My father’s eyes flashed. “The lawyer has it.”

“Then we can wait until the lawyer is here,” I said.

Lauren’s voice sharpened for the first time. “There’s no need.”

I watched her hand tremble again and realized she wasn’t scared of me reading.
She was scared of me delaying.

That’s when I understood the true purpose of tonight.

They didn’t just want my signature.
They wanted it before I could speak to anyone else—before I could request records, before I could ask my grandmother’s attorney for a copy, before I could stop whatever transfer they’d already set in motion.

A
door
creaked in the back of the house.

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