Chapter 6 - The Confrontation at the Mansion
The following Monday, the family law offices downtown were completely silent as the final asset division paperwork was laid flat on the mahogany desk.
Ashley sat across from me, her eyes red and swollen, her expensive trench coat looking entirely ridiculous without the luxury lifestyle to back it up.
Marcus sat next to her, his head down, looking every bit the broken boy he had been before I paid for his first condo down payment.
"Mrs. Williams," Ashley’s attorney began, his voice weak. "My client is willing to sign a full disclaimer of interest in the estate assets if you agree to drop the secondary accessory charges regarding the equity line fraud."
"I'm not dropping anything, counsel," I said, signing my name across the primary revocation form with a steady, practiced hand.
"Your client helped her mother forge the notary stamp on my late husband's pension files. That's a federal felony, not a family dispute."
Ashley leaped across the table, her manicured hands gripping the edge of the wood as she screamed at the top of her lungs. "You ruined us! You selfish old bitch! You have millions in that account! You don't need that money! You're going to die in that house alone anyway!"
"I might die alone, Ashley," I said, standing up and smoothing down my simple dark blazer. "But I will die in a house that I own, sleeping in a bed that isn't funded by someone else's stolen life savings."
Marcus reached out, his hand catching the edge of my sleeve as I walked toward the door. "Mom... please. Just tell me what I'm supposed to do now. Where am I supposed to go?"
May you like
I looked down at his hand, then back up into the amber eyes he had inherited from his father—the same father who had spent his life working to ensure our family would never have to beg for decency.
"Take an Uber, Marcus," I said softly, releasing his grip. "It's symbolic. We thought it was perfect."
