I looked at her and said nothing.
A week later, we gathered in the office of Mr. Leonard Hayes, Jonathan’s longtime attorney, for the reading of the will.
Vanessa sat confidently at the front, legs crossed, fingers tapping the table. She smiled at the lawyer as if he worked for her.
“Let’s hurry,” she said. “I have appointments.”
Mr. Hayes began with standard bequests—donations, bonuses, small gifts. Then he stopped.
“There is a personal letter,” he said. “It is to be read aloud.”
Vanessa leaned back, pleased. “He was always sentimental.”
The lawyer unfolded the letter.
By the first paragraph, her smile faltered.
By the third sentence, the color drained from her face.
His voice remained calm.
“To my wife—yes, my wife, even if the law disagrees—”
Vanessa snapped upright. “What is that supposed to mean?”
The lawyer didn’t look at her.
“I know my death will be sudden. I know assumptions will be made. That is why I prepared this carefully.”
The room felt colder.
“My marriage at the end of my life was a mistake I realized too late. It was entered into through manipulation, pressure, and greed.”
Vanessa slammed her hand on the table. “This is absurd!”