“Scott has always been a young man of rapid decisions,” Jerome said, his voice slow and choosing each word carefully.
“He said it was because of Evelyn’s estate,” I said. “He said the house had to be cleared.”
Jerome placed his glasses back on his nose, adjusting them behind his ears before looking at me.
“Your late grandmother-in-law was a very meticulous woman, Avery,” he said.
“I know she was,” I said, twisting my silver wedding ring again. “But our home is not part of her real estate portfolio.”
Jerome reached into a drawer and pulled out a thick document bound in a blue paper cover.
He placed it on the mahogany desk and aligned the edges perfectly with the desk mat before speaking.
“This is the final draft of Evelyn’s last will and testament,” Jerome said.
He turned the pages slowly, his fingers steady as he navigated the legal text.
He stopped at the third page and slid the document across the polished wood toward me.
“Look at section four, paragraph B,” Jerome said.
My eyes scanned down the page, past the standard legal jargon, until they stopped on a single short paragraph.
