“No,” I replied, my voice steady, devoid of emotion. “I’m just returning what was his.”
“I am your mother!” she screamed.
“And he was your husband for thirty-five years. You threw him out like garbage.”
“You’re just like him,” she snapped. “Cold.
Unfeeling.”
I almost laughed. “That’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it? That I’m exactly like the man you couldn’t break.”
The discovery phase was brutal.
The forensic audit I requested revealed everything. Diane had been siphoning money for years to fund a secret gambling habit. Julia had been paying her boyfriend’s debts.
Paige had simply been stealing. My mother panicked. She tried to paint me as a brainwashed pawn in court documents.
But facts are stubborn things, and bank statements don’t lie. I mailed Julia a letter. No threats.
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