“Your mother is gone. Tears won’t bring her back—so wipe your face, make dinner, and don’t look like a grieving child when my guests arrive.” That was what my husband said.

He held the envelope carefully as if it were a precious relic. He explained to everyone present that his visit today was not actually to attend Mark’s stupid party, but to execute the last will of the late Mrs. Vance. Mr. Harrison recounted that a week before she passed away, Mrs. Vance had secretly called the notary and him to the hospital to draft this will. Mrs. Vance sensed her time was running out and wanted to ensure her only daughter’s future was secure, and she also wanted to pass her final judgment on her son-in-law. Mr. Harrison slowly broke the seal on the envelope. The sound of tearing paper was painful.