I stared at her.
I had taken this woman into my family.
Who had sat at my dining table countless times.
Who had smiled and hugged me at every festive gathering.
The person looking at me now was a stranger.
“What agreements?” I asked with difficulty.
The lead attorney cleared his throat.
Your husband has amended his will to establish a trust. The estate will be administered by a trustee—in this case, your son Michael—with provisions for your care and support.
The room began to spin.
I grabbed the edge of the table to keep my balance.
« So you’re saying Harold didn’t trust me to manage my own finances. »
« It wasn’t about trust, » Maisie said quickly. « It was about protection. Harold loved you so much, Mildred. He just wanted to make sure you were well cared for. »
I closed my eyes and tried to grasp what was happening.
When I opened them again, I saw something that made my blood run cold.
In the corner of the meeting room I saw a small recording device.
The red light is flashing constantly.
