I wore a navy suit I'd purchased shortly after Thomas's funeral.
At the time, I'd bought it because I thought a widow should look dignified.
Now I wore it because I wanted to feel strong.
Julian arrived with Celia.
He looked pale.
“Margaret.”
I smiled.
“Good morning.”
He hesitated.
Then offered his arm.
I took it.
We walked into the courthouse together.
Raymond was already there.
He sat beside his attorneys, looking confident.
For months, he'd tried to paint Julian as an opportunist and me as a confused widow.
He'd suggested Thomas was mentally unfit.
Questioned the trust.
Implied the documents were suspicious.
And allowed rumors about Julian to spread through the press.
But by then, Celia had assembled a careful record.
Thomas had begun creating the trust years before his final illness.
He'd received independent legal and financial advice.
The original transfers were documented.
The trustees had maintained records.
