Ezoic
But he also wouldn’t tell me his plans. Wouldn’t risk Patricia finding out. Wouldn’t trust anyone.
Except maybe Mr. Henderson. His lawyer. His friend. His confidant.
The will reading was scheduled for the next morning. Patricia insisted on the formal dining room.
“Appropriate setting for such an important moment.”
She wore white. Designer. Expensive. Like she was celebrating.
Tyler set up his phone. “Gotta capture this historic moment, Mom. Our viewers deserve to see.”
And I—I sat quietly. Holding that yellow broom. Waiting.
Mr. Henderson arrived exactly on time. Briefcase. Suit. Professional demeanor.
He didn’t acknowledge Patricia’s attempts at small talk. Just opened the briefcase. Removed documents.
“We are gathered here to present the final will and testament of Arthur Thomas.”
Patricia leaned forward. “Let’s skip the formalities, Harold. What did he leave me?”
Henderson read slowly. Deliberately. Every word precise.
