“You really screwed us,” he said.
I stopped on the landing. “Us?”
He gave me a flat smile. “Don’t act innocent. Dad was going to fix everything.”
“With my money.”
“You weren’t even using it.”
“I was going to college.”
He stepped closer. “You think a trust makes you untouchable?”
Before I could respond, the front door opened.
Nora Whitman stood outside in a navy coat, carrying a leather folder.
Behind her waited a black car.
“Evelyn,” she said, glancing past me at my family. “Your grandfather anticipated this possibility. I’m here to take you to your new apartment.”
My mother went pale.
My father opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Nora looked at him calmly. “Also, Richard, I would advise you not to interfere. The trust owns the lease, the vehicle, and the legal retainer. Any attempt to coerce Evelyn financially or physically will be documented.”
