The man who had sat at the will reading wearing a three-thousand-dollar suit and looking offended by the amount he'd inherited.
I stared.
“What does Raymond have to do with this?”
Mr. Harrison's expression hardened.
“More than he wants anyone to discover.”
I looked down at the letter again.
Margaret, if I have done one thing right in these last years, it is making sure you have the freedom to decide what comes next.
The trust belongs to you. Nobody can demand that you forgive me in exchange for it.
Please meet Julian.
Not because you owe him anything.
Because he has spent his entire life wondering whether you would hate him for something he never chose.
A sob escaped me.
He doesn't want your money.
He doesn't want the company.
He only wants to know the woman I loved.
The final lines were written shakily.
I am sorry, my darling.
