At Connor’s funeral, while I tried to shield my eight-week pregnant belly…

“I’m not signing anything,” I said.

Vanessa gave a small laugh, like I had said something childish.

“Oh, Olivia, don’t make this dramatic.”

Dramatic.

My husband’s coffin stood ten feet away.

“Those things are mine,” I said slowly. “I bought the townhouse three years before I married Daniel. The car too.”

Helena’s lips pressed together.

“Daniel lived there.”

“That doesn’t change ownership.”

Marcus stepped closer then.