"He tells a lot of stories, dear," Barbara said. "You'll learn."
Then Barbara did the thing that mattered far more than the box.
"Here's the rest, Eric, since we're all awake. I've spoken to my attorney. Three things are happening.
One: you're paying child support for Chloe. Legally, formally, garnished if necessary. My lawyer is already filing. You emptied a joint savings account that was half your wife's — that's coming back too, with interest, or we discuss it in front of a judge.
Two: my money stops. Today. The accounts, the allowance, the house, the car — all of it. You're thirty-two years old. It's time you found out what your life is actually worth without me underwriting it.
Three: my will. I've changed it. Everything I have now goes into a trust — for Chloe. My granddaughter. The baby you called a brat and shut a door on.
She'll be taken care of for the rest of her life.
