Move me out of Jared’s townhome.
Emphasize the maintenance obligations associated with the Miami penthouse.
Encourage me to view the cabin as an expensive burden.
Offer to purchase access rights in exchange for immediate cash.
And if I resisted?
Recommend an evaluation of my ability to manage complex property decisions.
My hands turned cold.
I looked up.
“Jared wrote this?”
Celeste’s eyes filled with tears.
“Richard helped structure it.
But Jared suggested the approach.”
I thought of the night Vanessa told me to pack.
The kitchen island.
My son’s lowered eyes.
His careful silence.
I had believed he was too weak to defend me.
He hadn’t been paralyzed by fear.
He had already decided where he wanted me to go.
I closed the folder.
“Why didn’t Vanessa tell me?”
Celeste flinched.
“She thought it was just business.”
“Throwing out a grieving woman is business?”
“No.”
