No one spoke.
“The house is not the gift,” I continued. “The shares are not the gift.”
I lifted the baby bracelet.
“This is.”
Vivian’s anger disappeared for one second.
In its place was grief.
Pure, frightened grief.
Then she gathered her purse and walked out.
Grant remained seated.
“I didn’t know he was that sick,” he said quietly.
“Neither did I.”
Lucas looked toward the door through which his sister had disappeared.
“She loved him.”
“So did I.”
He nodded.
For the first time, one of Harrison’s children believed me.
I left the office carrying the silver box against my chest.
Outside, rain darkened the sidewalks.
Victory did not feel the way I had imagined it might.
There was no satisfaction.
No moment when every insult became worth enduring.
There was only grief, nausea and the terrifying knowledge that a child was growing inside me while the man who had wanted that child would never hold it.
