“Open it.”
“No. You tell me first.”
“Inside that box is the reason she picked you, and the reason I was too much of a coward to tell you once I found out.”
My hands trembled as I unlatched it.
Inside lay a cream-colored notebook.
Celeste’s handwriting curved across the page:
No active parents.
Minor brother dependent.
Behind on rent.
Likely compliant if payments remain consistent.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
“She studied me,” I whispered.
Jonah lowered his gaze. “Yes.”
“She studied my empty fridge, my shifts, my brother’s shoes. She looked at my life and saw a handle.”
Beneath the notebook was a trust document with my name on it.
I read the same paragraph three times before I understood it.
“Co-trustee?”
“My father built a safeguard,” Jonah said. “If I married while incarcerated and my conviction was overturned, my lawful spouse would receive emergency co-trustee authority. He knew more than he let on when he was ill.”
