“You’re a legal representative,” I said to the lawyer. “You know you’re obligated to provide a copy to any direct heir on request.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I’m afraid that’s not possible today.”
My father and the lawyer exchanged a look—a quick, sharp flicker of understanding that sliced through me like a scalpel.
“I have every right,” I said, standing so suddenly the pew creaked. “And I will not be brushed aside like some distant cousin while you all rewrite history in front of a closed casket.”
My mother’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “You’re ruining this.”
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