all of those facts.
He had simply never put them together.
By noon, I was sitting across from Eleanor Shaw, the attorney who had handled my father’s estate.
“You’re sure?” she asked.
“Completely.”
She studied me carefully.
“Thirty-two years is a long marriage.”
“So is being treated like furniture.”
Eleanor nodded once.
Then we began.
I didn’t drain our accounts.
I didn’t damage property.
I didn’t try to play games.
I documented everything.
I separated my personal funds.
I revoked Daniel’s access to the inheritance account that had always legally
