Sign the house over to me, or I’ll have you declared an unfit mother

I set the mug down slowly. The clink against granite sounded louder than it should have. “You’re right, Vanessa,” I said quietly. “I never finished college.” Her glossed lips curled into a victorious smile. She uncapped the pen. “But Daniel did,” I continued. “Magna cum laude. Estate law.” The pen paused mid-air. “He drafted his own will three years ago, after your little incident with your mother’s pension. Want to know what’s in it?” Her smile flickered. I walked to the drawer beneath the toaster, the one Daniel called the “in case of Vanessa” drawer, and pulled out a sealed envelope. “Everything is in an irrevocable trust. For the boys. I’m sole trustee until they turn thirty.” I slid the envelope across the granite. “And there’s a clause. Any blood relative who attempts to contest, coerce, or pressure the trustee, automatically forfeits the twenty-thousand-dollar memorial gift Daniel left them.” Her face drained of color beneath the contour. “You came here on day eleven, Vanessa. Day eleven. You wore white. You threatened my children.” I picked up my phone from the counter and tapped the screen. The little red recording dot glowed back at her. “My attorney has been on speaker since you walked through that door. Say hi, Marcus.” A calm voice answered through the speaker. “Good evening, Vanessa. I’ll be filing the forfeiture paperwork in the morning. We’ll also be seeking a restraining order on behalf of the minors.” Vanessa stumbled backward, knocking over the pen. “You can’t, you tricked me, I, I was emotional!” “No,” I said, opening the front door for her. “You were greedy. There’s a difference. Daniel knew which one you’d choose.” She stood frozen on the porch, mascara finally cracking. I looked at her one last time. “Don’t come to the boys’ birthday next month. They’ve been taught to recognize vultures.” Then I closed the door, locked it, and for the first time in eleven days, I exhaled.