“Your daughter executed her estate documents with full capacity, in my office, in the presence of two witnesses and a notary. She also provided a written record of the estrangement, including messages sent after the funeral.”
Melissa’s mouth dropped open.
“You kept screenshots?”
“Yes,” I answered through the speaker. “Especially the one where Mom said you were hurt I missed your birthday call.”
My mother turned pale.
Across the street, Mrs. Alvarez stood openly on her porch with her arms folded.
She had brought casseroles after the funeral.
She had also planted lilies near my mailbox because Lily loved the flower that shared her name.
My mother noticed her and lowered her voice.
“Claire. Please. Let’s not do this outside.”
I opened the front door.
Everyone froze.
I stepped onto the porch wearing Ethan’s sweatshirt, my hair tied back and my face bare.
For months, I had imagined that moment.
In every version, I shook.
In every version, I either screamed or collapsed.
CONTINUED ON THE NEXT PAGE.
