Hand over the company shares, sweetheart, or grandmother’s funeral will be the saddest event

I set my teacup down on the saucer without a sound. “Ethan,” I said softly, “do you remember what Grandmother asked you, the last time you called her?” He rolled his eyes. “Spare me the sentimental—” “She asked if you’d come home for her eightieth birthday. You told her you had a yacht party in Cannes. She cried for an hour.” His jaw tightened. “Sign the transfer, Vivian. Tonight.” I opened the leather folder he’d shoved across the desk. I read every line. Then I closed it and slid it back. “No.” He stood up so fast his chair scraped the floor. “You think you can fight me? I have lawyers in three countries—” “So does Grandmother,” I said. I pulled a thinner envelope from beneath the folder. “This is the updated will. Filed eleven months ago, witnessed by Judge Marlon Avery and two physicians who confirmed she was of sound mind. She left the entire controlling interest — seventy-six percent — to me. Your forty-one percent? That was the old will. The one you bragged about at her birthday you didn’t attend.” The color drained from his face. “You’re lying.” “Mr. Avery is in the parlor,” I said. “He arrived an hour ago. He’d like to speak with you about the trust fund Grandmother also revoked — the one paying for the Monaco apartment.” Ethan sat down very slowly. “Vivian. Please. We can — we can split it. Fifty-fifty.” I stood up and smoothed my black dress. “You said the funeral would be the saddest event I’d ever attended alone. You were almost right.” I walked to the door, then turned. “It will be sad. But I won’t be the one attending alone, Ethan. You will. Because as of nine this morning, you’re no longer listed as family in the program. Grandmother’s instructions.” I closed the heavy door behind me. In the hallway, I finally let myself breathe. Somewhere upstairs, a clock chimed midnight, and for the first time in six long years, the house felt like mine to protect.