Victor listened without interrupting as I told him everything: the phone call, the inheritance, the eviction, the papers, the affair, the pregnancy, the receipts.
When I finished, he did not offer pity.
He asked one question.
“What was Ryan’s grandmother’s full legal name?”
“Margaret Ellen Bennett,” I said.
Victor turned to his computer. “Once a will enters probate, it becomes public record. Let’s see what she actually wrote.”
For several minutes, only the rain against the window and his keyboard filled the room.
Then Victor stopped scrolling.
His expression changed.
He printed the document, slid it across the desk, and highlighted one paragraph.
“Read this.”
My eyes locked onto the words.
Any inheritance distributed to my grandson, Ryan Bennett, shall remain dependent upon his continued good-faith marriage to Harper for no fewer than twelve months after my death.
“Twelve months,” I whispered.
Victor nodded. “Margaret died six weeks ago. Ryan needed to stay legally and genuinely married to you for almost eleven more months before receiving a dollar.”
