“Therefore, I leave to Peggy Anne Morrison only the following: one property I own located at 47 Oakwood Lane in the town of Milbrook, Massachusetts, along with all contents contained therein. This property is given to Peggy with the express understanding that she will vacate the Brookline residence within thirty days of my death…”
Only.
Peggy’s brain snagged on that word the way a dress hem catches on a nail.
Only.
As if forty years could be collapsed into a single disposable item.
She felt her breath shallow. The room seemed too bright. Too quiet. Too… watched.
Steven’s chair scraped as he shifted. Catherine’s nails clicked lightly on the table. Michael’s phone buzzed, and he didn’t even have the decency to silence it with embarrassment—he simply looked down and typed, his thumbs moving quickly, already spending money that wasn’t fully his yet.
Peggy stared at Marcus and heard herself ask in a voice that sounded far away, “What about me?”
Marcus swallowed. “Peggy…” He paused, then continued reading, because it was his job to carve the wound clean.
The mansion to the stepchildren. The bank accounts to the stepchildren. The investments to the stepchildren.