Silence filled the dining room.
His brother shoved his chair away from the table.
“She warned you not to marry him,” my daughter said quietly. “In writing. Two days before she died.”
Michael stretched his hand toward mine.
I moved away.
“I’m filing for annulment Monday morning,” I said. “You’ll sign it. You’ll leave this house tonight. And you won’t touch a single cent of what Clara left behind.”
“Evelyn, don’t do this to me.”
He collected his coat without another word.
No one rose to escort him outside.
Later, once the house had become quiet, I placed Clara’s wedding ring on my right hand.
Not as Michael’s wife—but as Clara’s sister.
For the first time since my twin died, I was no longer standing in her shadow.
At last, I was protecting both of us.
