Inside was a stack of legal documents and a single, typed letter.

I leaned against the table, trying to read the words through my tears.

Richard picked up the typed letter and read it aloud.

“Dear Emily,” he began, his voice flat and hard.

“To avoid a public spectacle that would ruin your late husband’s memory, we offer a settlement.”

“You will immediately sign the attached custody agreement, relinquishing primary physical custody to Margaret Whitmore.”

“You will also sign a waiver releasing all claims to the Whitmore family trust and your late husband’s estate.”

“In exchange, we will agree not to file the psychiatric evaluation with the court.”

“You will be allowed supervised visitation twice a month.”

“You have until nine o’clock tomorrow morning to return the signed documents to Thomas Vale’s office.”

Richard stopped reading.

The silence in the room was suffocating.

“It is blackmail,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

“Pure and simple,” Richard said.

He tossed the letter onto the table.

“They are using your children as leverage to steal your inheritance.”

“I don’t care about the money,” I said, grabbing his arm.