As I sat across from Harrison, the tension in the room was palpable. There was a strange mix of relief and anxiety swirling inside me. Relief that Robert’s meticulous nature might still safeguard me, and anxiety about what Victoria might have done.
“Margaret,” Harrison continued, flipping through the folder, “Robert made specific provisions in his will. It wasn’t just a simple inheritance. The house and assets were meant to support you first and foremost. Victoria… Victoria wasn’t supposed to take control.”
I felt a mix of anger and betrayal. My daughter, the child I had raised and nurtured, had lied and manipulated circumstances to her advantage. But alongside the anger was a stubborn hope. Perhaps this was the lifeline I needed to reclaim my dignity and my life.
