Never married.
No children.
He had worked in “commercial real estate,” which in my family meant no one understood exactly how much money he had.
When he died six years earlier, I attended a tiny funeral in Maine.
He left me an old watch and a letter telling me to build a quiet life.
That was it.
Or so I thought.
Martin continued.
“The payments you believed were mortgage payments were deposited into the trust as maintenance contributions. The house itself has never been marital property.”
Derek blinked.
Claire said nothing.
I stared at her.
“You knew?”
Her eyes filled with something.
Not remorse.
Fear.
“How long?”
“Cole—”
“How long?”
She swallowed.
“
Two years.”
The words struck harder than Derek’s punch.
“How?”
“When Robert died, his estate attorney sent a notice. You were deployed for consulting work in Dubai. I opened it.”
