“Have received annual statements for all three trust funds for more than twenty-five years,” she said quietly. “They have had full knowledge of the asset structure and the maturity schedule the entire time.”
Something inside me gave way then.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
More like a support beam cracking in a house you had spent your whole life believing was stable.
My parents had known.
They had watched me struggle.
Watched me borrow.
Watched me work.
Watched me adapt around lack.
And all along, the lack had been artificial.
I don’t remember everything I said in the next ten minutes.
I remember fragments.
“Did Marcus know?”
“Has Olivia been told?”
“How much was there when I turned eighteen?”
“Are you certain?”
“Can I see every statement?”
Mrs. Hampton answered everything calmly.