I came home from my mother-in-law’s funeral still wearing black, only to find my husband, his sister, and a lawyer already sitting in my living room with a will that called my ten years of caregiving “service,” left him the house, and gave me forty-eight hours to disappear. So I walked out without a single argument, checked into a cheap motel with nothing but one bag and the sealed envelope she’d forbidden me to open until after her d.ea.th

The lawyer adjusted his glasses and opened a thick folder, clearing his throat with a sound that echoed in the hollow room. He didn’t ask me to sit down, so I remained standing by the door, my keys still biting into my palm.

“Per the document provided to me, the residence and all liquid assets are bequeathed solely to Jude,” Mr. Higgins stated in a flat, monotone voice. “Serena, you are allocated a sum of four thousand dollars for your assistance with the deceased.”

The words felt like physical blows, arriving one by one until I could barely draw a breath. Ten years of lifting a woman twice my size, of changing bandages, and of sitting through sleepless nights of fever were now categorized as a line item labeled “assistance.”

“That is it?” I whispered, my voice sounding thin and unfamiliar even to my own ears.

Maura let out a sharp, mocking laugh and adjusted her designer handbag on her lap. “Honestly, Serena, you should be grateful you’re getting anything at all considering you were basically just the live-in help.”