“Mom, where are you?” His voice held irritation rather than concern. “Aunt Helen said you haven’t contacted her.”
“I’m fine, Jonathan,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral. “I found somewhere to stay.”
“Well, I need you to come pick up the rest of your things from the penthouse. I’m having the interior designers start work tomorrow, and they need everything cleared out.”
No apology, no acknowledgement of his cruelty, just more demands and dismissal.
“I see,” I said, a strange calm settling over me. “And when would be convenient for you?”
“Tomorrow morning before nine. I have meetings all day.”
I thought about the documents spread before me—proof of Robert’s careful planning and deep love. I thought about the son who could so casually discard his mother when she became inconvenient. And I made a decision.
“I’ll be there,” I said.
After hanging up, I called Marcus back and asked if he could recommend a good attorney specializing in estate matters. By the time night fell, I had appointments scheduled with both legal counsel and a financial adviser for the following afternoon.
I spent my second night in the garage office more comfortably than the first, my mind no longer reeling with shock but instead methodically planning my next steps. I thought of Robert, imagining him carefully orchestrating this elaborate protection for me, all while keeping it secret to shield it from Jonathan’s potential interference.
“You knew him better than I did,” I whispered to Robert’s memory as I drifted toward sleep. “Our own son.”
The realization was painful, but clarifying. Robert’s unusual will hadn’t been a rejection of me, but an act of profound love and foresight. He’d sacrificed having me share in his secret project during his final years to ensure I would be truly independent after he was gone.
