“She’s sleeping.”
“Then I’ll happily sit here and watch her sleep,” Malcolm replied.
“You can’t just walk in.”
“My dear,” he answered calmly, “I’ve walked into federal courtrooms with less permission than this.”
He entered wearing his old gray suit and the expression of a man who smelled blood in water.
I was sitting upright drinking tea.
Vanessa’s jaw tightened immediately.
Malcolm kissed my cheek lightly. “You look inconveniently alive.”
“I’m exploring new hobbies.”
Vanessa folded her arms tightly. “She’s exhausted.”
“No,” I corrected. “She’s dismissed.”
The room fell silent.
Vanessa smiled, but there were teeth behind it. “Evelyn, don’t humiliate yourself.”
Malcolm placed a folder onto my lap.
Inside were copies of forged signatures, wire transfers, emails between Vanessa and a property developer, and a draft petition requesting emergency control over my estate.
Daniel’s signature sat at the bottom of the last page.
He looked physically ill.
“Mom,” he whispered. “I didn’t understand what she was doing.”
I slowly turned another page. “You understood enough to sign it.”
Vanessa stepped closer. “This is absurd. Daniel is your heir.”
“He was,” I replied calmly.
Her smile disappeared instantly.
Malcolm adjusted his glasses. “Mrs. Whitmore revised her trust six months ago. Daniel receives only a modest annuity contingent upon taking no legal action against her estate. Vanessa receives absolutely nothing. All properties are secured under the Whitmore Foundation for the next fifty years.”
Vanessa stared at me like I had struck her.
“You can’t do that.”
