She wore black, but she smiled through the whole funeral. By the third day, she was already meeting with a real estate broker talking about selling his properties. She even cornered me in the kitchen.
Don’t bother showing up for the will reading. You’re not in it. I looked at her.
I’ll be there. She laughed like I’d just told the world’s funniest joke, the reading of the will. The room smelled like leather and old paper…
Robert sat at the head of the table, his glasses low on his nose. Vanessa sat to his right, draped in black silk, acting like a queen awaiting her crown. The first part was predictable, small bequests to charities, gifts to longtime staff.
Then Robert said my name. Vanessa’s smile twitched. And to my son, I leave full controlling interest in the Winston Holdings Trust, including all associated accounts, assets, and properties, with the exception of, he paused, adjusted his glasses, the residence at 4 Park Lane, and a living stipend of $100,000 per year, which I leave to my wife, Vanessa.
Her head whipped toward him. That’s it, she snapped. Robert smiled, just a little.
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