They are wrong.
You loved me when I couldn’t buy you a cup of coffee.
You loved me when I had nothing but a bicycle and wet shoes.
You loved me before there was a house.
Before there was a business.
Before there was an inheritance.
That’s why I made my decision.”
I looked up.
“What decision?”
Daniel opened his briefcase.
“There are documents you need to see.”
He placed them on the small table.
My eyes moved over the first page.
Then the second.
Then I stopped.
The house.
The mansion Rebecca had thrown me out of.
The property Thomas had spent decades building.
It had been placed into a legal trust.
And I was the sole beneficiary for the rest of my life.
I stared at Daniel.
“I don’t understand.”
“Thomas transferred the property into the trust before your wedding.”
My hands went numb.
“He knew?”
“He anticipated what might happen.”
I looked at the letter again.
Thomas had written:
“I don’t want you fighting my children.
I don’t want you begging them.
I don’t want you proving yourself.
I want the law to speak for you.”
Then came the sentence that made me cry harder.
“You deserve the home I should have given you fifty years ago.”
