as gone, replaced by an icy calm. I remembered his face from my nightmares, fro

and firm. "And you' re right. I' m inheriting my husb

d. He was used to fear, to people begging a

whisper. "Olivia, stop this! You don' t know what

doing," I said, pulling

n't part of her script. I was supposed to be a weeping, hel

f, forcing her voice back into its concerned, gentle tone. She reached into her expensive, brand-na

a standard Renunciation of Inheritance. All you have to do is sign it. We ca

en me in my past life. The paper tha

years, I had believed her lies. She told me she had a generous but modest inheritance from a distant aunt. She' d "lo

was unstable after I' d reported my boss for sexual harassment and been quietly p

ew me a baby shower, gifting me a second-hand crib she claimed she got

me struggle, probably laughing at my naivety. They were treating my

ice. All that p

cold, hard sto

ument in her hand.

he paper

sigh of relief, th

ocument in half. And then in half again. I kept tea

ngers onto the polished floor of th

of paper, then at me, her mou

e?" she whispered,

voice devoid of any emoti