I told her that I did not want to be a talking point at her church or a reason for people to bring over casseroles for a week. My grandfather told her to leave me alone but she waited until he went to bed before she cornered me near the refrigerator.
“Did he change the will before or after he saw that wound on your shoulder?” she asked with a voice that was dripping with pure venom. That was the moment something inside of me went cold because I finally understood that I was just a variable in her financial plans.
The judge opened the final envelope and the letter opener made a soft tearing sound that felt like it was cutting through the air of the room. Inside was a signed affidavit from my grandfather that had been notarized six months before he passed away in his sleep.
“I, Walter Miller, being of sound mind, wish to clarify the distribution of my estate regarding my granddaughter,” the judge read aloud to the room. My grandfather wrote that I had never asked him for property or money and that I had actually resisted his attempts to help me.