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A week later, I summoned them to the house. They arrived together, an impenetrable united front.<\/p>\n
I stood in the shadowed hallway, my robe pulling loosely at my shoulders. My hands smelled faintly of lemon dish soap because I had spent the last seven days scrubbing floors, washing windows, doing anything to keep my mind from fracturing.<\/p>\n
I placed the certified envelope on the kitchen island.<\/p>\n
Brandon picked it up, a smug, victorious smirk playing on his lips. He sliced it open with a kitchen knife, fully expecting a standard distribution of wealth. Erin leaned against the marble counter, sipping her coffee, while Tyler tapped his fingers impatiently.<\/p>\n
Brandon pulled out the thick stack of legal paper. He read the first page.<\/p>\n
I watched the color drain from his face, leaving behind an ashen, sickly gray. The smirk vanished, replaced by a slack-jawed tremor.<\/p>\n
Because the letter did not say what he expected.<\/p>\n
\u201cPursuant to the trust amendment executed by Richard Caldwell\u2026\u201d Brandon muttered, his voice catching. He read the line again, slower, as if speed had caused the error.<\/p>\n
\u201cTrust amendment?\u201d Erin whispered, her coffee cup pausing inches from her mouth.<\/p>\n
Tyler snatched the paper violently from his brother\u2019s hands, his eyes frantically scanning the dense paragraphs. \u201cWhere\u2019s the part that says what we get? Where are the accounts?\u201d he snapped, his voice tight with rising panic.<\/p>\n
Brandon slowly looked up from the documents and locked eyes with me for the first time since the funeral. His gaze was sharp, hard, and deeply suspicious\u2014as if I had forged the documents in the dead of night.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d he demanded, his tone dripping with venom.<\/p>\n
I blinked, genuinely startled. A cold dread coiled in my gut. \u201cMe?\u201d I asked softly. \u201cI didn\u2019t even know there was an amendment.\u201d<\/p>\n
But as the words left my lips, a memory snapped into focus with the clarity of a camera lens. Two months before he died, Richard had come home unusually quiet. He hadn\u2019t gone straight to the shower to wash off the dirt from the job sites. Instead, he had walked up behind me at the sink, wrapped his arms around my waist, rested his chin on my shoulder, and said, \u201cMari\u2026 if anything ever happens to me, you\u2019ll be okay. I made sure.\u201d<\/p>\n