Heads turned. Whispers spread like a current through the room.
Jason ignored all of it. He led Rachel down the aisle and sat in the front row. Lily’s row.
Rachel leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder, playing the part of a grieving partner.
My chest burned with rage. I started to stand, ready to drag her out by the arm, but my father pulled me back down.
“Not here,” he said quietly. “Not today.”
The pastor spoke about Lily’s kindness, her laugh, and the baby boy she had already named Noah. I barely heard him. My eyes stayed locked on Jason, trying to understand how a man could betray my sister in life and still find a way to humiliate her in death.
When the final hymn ended and people began to rise, a man in a gray suit stepped forward. He looked calm, deliberate, holding a worn leather briefcase.
“Excuse me,” he said, his voice carrying easily through the church. “My name is Daniel Hayes. I am Lily Reed’s attorney.”
Jason stiffened.
“Now?” he snapped. “You’re doing this now?”
Mr. Hayes didn’t flinch.
“Your wife left explicit instructions,” he said evenly. “Her will is to be opened today. In front of her family. And in front of you.”
A hush fell over the room.
“There is a section Lily specifically requested be read aloud at her funeral.”
He unfolded a single sheet of paper, creased and worn.
“This is a personal statement Lily attached to her will,” he said. “Written in her own hand, three weeks before her death.”
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