For the past two years, I had struggled to buy groceries.

I had begged Margaret for money to buy shoes for Grace and Lily.

I had tolerated her insults, her cruelty, and her control because I believed we were entirely dependent on her charity.

“Four million,” I repeated. “Are you sure?”

“The documents don’t lie, Emily,” Nora said. “The primary beneficiary of that trust was you. Upon your death, it was set to go to your daughters.”

“Then how did Margaret get her hands on it?” Richard asked.

Nora scrolled further down, opening a PDF of a trust amendment.

“This was filed on October fifteenth,” Nora said. “One day after the fake townhouse transfer.”

She zoomed in on the signature line.

“It’s an amendment naming Margaret Whitmore as the sole trustee and giving her full discretionary power over the funds,” Nora said.

“And the signature?” I asked.

“It’s Michael’s,” Nora said. “Or rather, a very good imitation of it.”

“He was in a coma,” I said, tears finally spilling over my eyelashes. “He couldn’t even hold a pen.”

“Thomas Vale prepared the amendment,” Nora said. “And Margaret signed as the witness.”