Megan’s hand goes to her mouth.
You stand completely still.
Your father had known.
Maybe not everything.
But enough.
Enough to protect you one final time.
Jason lunges toward the table, but the deputy catches him immediately and pins his arm behind his back. Jason screams from the pain in his wrist.
“Careful,” Aunt Ruth says coldly. “Wouldn’t want you to fall.”
The deputy cuffs him.
The sound of metal closing around Jason’s wrists feels unreal.
For years, his hands had been the hands that slammed doors, grabbed your arm, threw plates near your feet, held your chin too tightly when he wanted you to listen.
Now those hands are behind his back.
Powerless.
Jason looks at you as the deputy leads him toward the door.
“You’ll regret this,” he hisses.
You wipe blood from your lip with the back of your hand.
“No,” you say. “I already regret marrying you. This is different.”
The deputy takes him outside.
Megan remains frozen on the porch.
Mr. Thompson turns to her. “You should know those documents were prepared using information Jason had no legal right to possess.”
Megan’s eyes fill with panic. “I didn’t know.”
Aunt Ruth laughs once.
It is not kind.
“You came here after a funeral to watch a man pressure his grieving wife into signing inheritance papers. What exactly did you think you knew?”
Megan looks at you.
