I refused to leap there.
“What were the medications?”
“Mostly pain management.”
“Could someone have killed her with them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why tell me this?”
“Because your parents filed a petition yesterday.”
I turned.
“What petition?”
“They are challenging the trust.”
I laughed once.
“They have no basis.”
“They claim undue influence.”
“By me?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know it existed.”
“They allege your grandmother concealed communications with you.”
“That’s insane.”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“Litigation doesn’t require truth to become expensive.”
My parents had chosen war.
Fine.
I would give them facts.
The lawsuit became public within a week.
Suddenly relatives who had barely spoken to me in years developed opinions.
Aunt Cora supported me.
Uncle Ambrose urged reconciliation.
Three cousins messaged asking whether the rumors about “Grandma’s secret millions” were true.
Someone leaked my Wexford compensation package.
A business blog published my photograph beneath the headline:
