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A sharp woman in her 50s with silver streked hair and eyes that missed nothing. “Mrs. Lawson, I have to say this is highly unusual.”
Connie spread the documents across her mahogany desk, each page crisp and official.
I smoothed my black dress, the same one I’d worn to the funeral, and kept my voice steady. “Russell always said I underestimated people’s capacity for selfishness. I’m beginning to think he was protecting me from a truth I wasn’t ready to see.”
Connie nodded, her fingers tracing the edge of a document.
“The revocable trust he established gives you complete control over all assets. The children were never named as beneficiaries of the real estate, only the life insurance policy. Everything else, the house, the investments, the property in Spain belongs entirely to you.”
“And they don’t know about the Spanish property.”
“According to Russell’s instructions, that information was to be shared only with you and only after the initial 30-day period following his death.”
Connie leaned back in her chair.
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