“So, are you ready to hand over the keys?” she asked. “It’s better if we do this without lawyers. Family should settle things quietly.”
I almost smiled. “I agree,” I said, pulling a folder from my bag. “That’s why I brought these.”
I laid the documents on the hood of her car. First, the real will—signed, notarized, flawless. Then the deed, showing Daniel and me as sole owners. Finally, Alex’s birth certificate, glaringly blank in the father’s section.
Her face paled as she skimmed the papers. “That doesn’t prove anything,” she muttered.
“It proves everything,” I replied. “Daniel left me the house. All of it. And as for Alex—unless you have a paternity test, you have nothing but lies.”
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