He lightly tapped his cane against the floor. “That BMW—I chose it myself. It was meant for you. Not just transportation, but a statement. You’ve worked since you were a teenager, never demanded anything. I wanted you to know I noticed.”
My throat tightened. “It was the first gift I ever received that didn’t come with expectations.”
“I thought your mother understood,” he muttered.
“She understands what suits her,” I replied.
He studied me then, resolve hardening behind his pale eyes. “Have you ever wondered why I haven’t finished my will?”
I hesitated. “Not really. I assumed you were just taking your time.”
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