He didn’t even hesitate. “This is Ava,” he answered casually, as if introducing someone at a backyard cookout. “She’s… supporting me.”

“Supporting you?” My voice rose despite myself, drawing stares. “My daughter is in that coffin.”

His jaw tightened briefly before he bent toward my ear. “Watch your tone, Linda. After today, I’m free.”

Free. The word struck like a blow. I stared at Ava’s manicured fingers entwined with his and felt the urge to drag her away. But Emily’s casket stood between us like a boundary: not here, not now.

The attorney arrived late—a gray-suited man named Mr. Dawson holding a heavy-looking folder. Emily’s closest friend, Sarah, leaned in and whispered, “Emily made me promise I’d be here for this.” She avoided my gaze.

After the service concluded, Mr. Dawson asked everyone to remain. Jason straightened, his smug confidence returning. “Let’s get this over with,” he said loudly.

Mr. Dawson opened the file. “Emily Carter’s last will and testament,” he announced. “There is a condition for any inheritance.”

Jason scoffed. “A condition? She didn’t have anything without me.”

As Mr. Dawson lifted a single page, I saw Jason’s expression shift when he read the opening lines.

“Emily’s estate includes her life insurance policy, her individual savings, and her premarital share of the house,” Mr. Dawson continued evenly. “The beneficiary is not Mr. Reed. It is a trust established for her child.”

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