“You know what’s funny?” I said. “I fell in love with a boy on a porch swing when I was a teenager. But that boy never existed.”
Aaron’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t find the right words to say.
I tipped it out slowly.
“I won’t waste another tear on a stranger wearing his face,” I added.
My stepmother straightened, gripping her folder as if it could still save her.
“And you. My mother’s house will never be yours. Not in this life. Not in the next one.”
I reached into my handbag and pulled out a manila envelope I’d tucked there that morning. I set it gently in Aaron’s hands.
“Annulment papers,” I told him. “When Mr. Whitfield restructured the trust in August, I asked him to draw these up too. A contingency. To be filed only if I ever confirmed what I’d been afraid of for a long time. Fraud in the inducement of marriage. He says it’s a clean case.”
