Back in the present, Lauren’s voice cut through my memories.
“What are you babbling about? You think some sob story about Grandma’s funeral is going to change anything?”
I smiled. Genuinely smiled—for the first time in years at a family dinner.
“I’m not looking for your sympathy, Lauren. I’m explaining why I’ve spent the last three months documenting every single cruel thing you’ve done to me.”
My mother, Patricia, shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“Jenna, what is this nonsense? You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Am I?”
I pulled out my phone, scrolling to the photos I’d taken of the will.
“Grandmother Eleanor left me in charge of her entire estate. All three point two million dollars of it.”
The color drained from their faces simultaneously. My father, Robert, half rose from his chair, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
