Karen turned to the room, arms spread wide, playing to her audience. “My mother loved me. She would never cut me out of her will. This girl-” her voice dripped venom “-manipulated a senile old woman. This is elder abuse. This is coercion.”
“The will is legally valid,” Harold said. “Witnessed by two parties, notarized, and filed properly.”
Karen straightened her spine, composing herself with visible effort. When she spoke again, her voice had gone cold and calculated.
“Well, let the courts decide that, won’t we?” She gathered her purse. “I’m contesting this will. I’ll have it declared invalid. And when I’m done, everyone will know exactly what kind of person my granddaughter really is.”
She paused at the door, looking back at me with a smile that never reached her eyes. “See you in court, sweetheart.”
The door slammed behind her.
After the explosion, the conference room emptied quickly. Richard hurried after Karen without a backward glance. The distant cousins mumbled excuses and fled. Only Aunt Patricia lingered.
She approached me hesitantly, wringing her hands. “Mila, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Aunt Patricia.”
She glanced toward the door as if afraid Karen might burst back in. “I just… Karen is my sister. I have to stand by her. You understand, right?”
I understood perfectly. Blood over truth. Appearances over reality. The Marshall family motto.
“Of course,” I said quietly.
Patricia left without another word.
Harold began gathering his papers. “Miss Marshall, I want you to know this will be a difficult fight. Karen has resources. She’ll drag this out.”
“I know.”
“But the will is solid. Your grandmother made sure of that.” He paused, studying me. “She loved you very much.”
That night, I drove to the mansion alone. My mansion now, technically, though it did not feel like mine. It felt like Grandma Margaret’s ghost still wandered the halls.
I sat in her bedroom surrounded by photographs. One caught my eye: me at seven years old, sobbing in Grandma’s arms the day Karen left.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
The text read: Miss Marshall, I’m a private investigator. Been hired by Karen Marshall to look into you. Thought you should know.
My stomach dropped.
