Richard slid a paper toward me. “Sign. You’re not family anymore.”
Marlene’s voice was soft but firm. “You were married briefly. Ethan understood responsibility.”
Responsibility. As if I were a debt to settle.
They spoke as though I weren’t there, listing the house on Maple Ridge, Ethan’s truck, his tools, the benefits meant to keep me afloat. My hands trembled—not from grief, but from certainty that something was wrong.
“May I see the will?” I asked.
Pierce turned it slightly. Ethan’s signature was there—but stiff, unnatural.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Claire,” Richard warned.
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