“I know.”
“I raised them.”
“I know.”
“They were my babies.”
“I know.”
She opened her eyes.
“And they still chose this.”
Nobody answered.
Because there was nothing to say.
Three weeks later, the family trust held a formal hearing.
My father arrived with an attorney.
Aunt Monica arrived alone.
My mother didn’t come.
My cousins sat in the back.
I sat beside Grandma.
The trustee reviewed the evidence.
