Chapter 2 - The Will
Three days earlier, we had sat in Mr. Patterson’s office with our father’s will on the desk between us. The room was too quiet, the kind of quiet that follows a death no one has figured out how to speak around. Dad had been gone for three weeks, but his signature at the bottom of the paperwork looked so steady and ordinary that part of me expected him to walk in holding coffee and ask why everyone looked so serious.
Victoria sat across from me in a cream suit, her engagement ring flashing every time she moved her hand. She had been planning her wedding for eight months with the calm entitlement of a person who believed the world owed her beauty at any price. Historic ballroom. Imported flowers. A photographer who only worked celebrity events. A string quartet. A custom gown. Every conversation with her became a bill someone else was expected to pay.
Mr. Patterson adjusted his glasses. “The total value of the estate is four hundred eighty thousand dollars.”
Victoria’s eyes brightened.
“Per your father’s instructions,” he continued, “the estate is to be divided equally between his two daughters.”
Her smile froze. “Equally?”
“Two hundred forty thousand each.”
It took less than a second for my sister to change. Her cheeks flushed, her hand curled, and the bride vanished beneath the child who had always believed rules were insults when they did not bend for her.
“That can’t be right,” she said. “Dad knew I’m getting married.”
“He was very specific,” Patterson replied.
Victoria leaned forward. “He wanted me to have a beautiful wedding.”
“Dad wanted a lot of things,” I said quietly.
Her head snapped toward me. “Don’t.”
I should have stayed silent, but grief makes honesty slip through cracks. Dad had wanted peace. He had wanted both daughters to stop measuring love by who received more. He had wanted Victoria to grow up. He had wanted me to stop cleaning up emotional disasters just because I was better at surviving them.
Patterson slid the documents toward us. “The will does not authorize a different distribution based on anticipated expenses.”
Victoria stood so fast her chair scraped the floor.
“This isn’t over,” she said.
May you like
She was right.
Just not in the way she thought.
