I was still staring at Russell’s photograph of me.
At the woman I had been that night.
Exhausted.
Hungry.
Still capable of laughing.
She had no idea a man across the ballroom had noticed her.
Then Marlene’s voice cut through the room.
“Skip ahead.”
The attorney continued.
“Who gets the house?” she demanded.
He turned another page.
Marlene leaned forward.
Her brothers exchanged glances.
Then she said quietly:
“This can’t be right.”
The attorney looked up.
“It is right.”
“He was sick.”
“Your father completed a competency evaluation before signing.”
“He didn’t understand—”
“He reviewed every provision.”
The attorney’s tone became firmer.
“He also anticipated objections.”
Marlene went still.
The will was far more detailed than I expected.
Russell had arranged advisors to help manage his company interests for the first year.
His children would receive generous trust allowances.
Education.
Housing.
Medical expenses.
Reasonable living support.
