“I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll explain something to you later.”
After we hung up, I called the restaurant manager.
I asked him to make one small change to the evening’s program.
Then I contacted an old family friend, a retired attorney named Richard Collins, who had helped us with property paperwork years earlier.
I explained what I had discovered and asked him for advice.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he said, “Margaret, before you do anything, make sure you protect yourself. Don’t sign anything, don’t make financial decisions in anger, and don’t let anyone pressure you into accepting a story that doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t want his money,” I replied.
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m telling you to protect what belongs to you.”
I understood.
Our house was jointly owned. Our savings had been built through decades of work. I had spent years contributing to a life that Daniel could not simply erase because he had decided to betray me.
