“Mr. Whitfield says hello.”
“But the trust was restructured, anyway. I’m the sole signatory, and it was independently witnessed. The house was never going to be yours, Aaron. Not even for a minute,” I told him.
Diane’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“You,” I said, turning to her, “have been paying him to guard a door that was already locked.”
Aaron set the pen down very carefully, as if it might bite him.
“Sandra,” he started. “Baby, listen.”
“Don’t.”
“The trust was restructured.”
I picked up my wine glass, the one I’d set down, and walked it to the sink. I tipped it out slowly.
Then I turned back to the two people who’d plotted against me for years.
“Now,” I said. “Let’s talk about what happens next.”
I looked at Aaron, then at Diane, and I felt something settle in my chest that I hadn’t felt in years: calm.
