“Oh, sir. What did you do?”
I read the letter three times before pressing it against my chest and crying. Nathaniel had told the truth. Mr. Whitaker had carefully planned everything. That same evening, someone pounded on our apartment door. Julian stood in the hallway wearing an expensive coat that looked absurd against the peeling wallpaper.
“We need to talk.”
“There is nothing to discuss.”
“My father’s attorney contacted me. Apparently, there is confusion regarding the estate.”
“He contacted me too. He did not sound confused.”
Julian’s expression hardened.
“I’m prepared to be generous. I’ll give you ten thousand dollars if you sign a waiver today.”
The old version of me might have accepted the money out of fear and gratitude. But the words in Mr. Whitaker’s letter had changed something inside me.
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your father’s wishes were clear. I will not sign anything.”
