Walking into Mark’s office. Jeans and a blouse. Trying to stay calm.
Mother, stepfather, brother. And two strangers. Lawyers. Waiting for me.
“We’re here to help,” she said. But it was a trap.
A folder slid across the table. 80% of my inheritance. Into a “family trust.”
They smirked. Thought I’d fold. Thought they knew me.
But they didn’t. I had a surprise of my own.
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