The Reading of the Will
The Other Wife

The Rewrite

"There's more," Lane said, and it was almost gentle, the way you'd warn someone before pulling a bandage.

"Of course there is," Whitney said.

Lane turned to the will itself. "The version I'm required to execute was signed two years ago. It supersedes the one from 2011, which split the estate between Rosalind and the two of you."

"Supersedes," Rosalind said. "In English, Foster."

"Because the divorce was legally valid, Rosalind is not recognized as a surviving spouse, and has no automatic claim to the estate." Lane said it fast, like ripping tape. "Under this version, Juniper receives the Nevada property outright. The house here, the accounts, and the remainder of the estate are divided — forty percent to Whitney, twenty percent to Garrett—"

"Twenty," Garrett said. "Why do I get less than her?"

"—and forty percent to Asa."

The number sat in the room like a struck bell.

"He's sixteen," Whitney said. "He gets the same as me?"

"In trust until he's twenty-five, but yes."

Garrett stood so fast his chair hit the wall. "This is a joke. Dad hated Reno. He told us Reno was a work thing, he complained about it every single spring—"

"He complained in front of you," Asa said, "because that's where I live."

Garrett's face did something Whitney hadn't seen since their father's actual funeral — not anger, underneath the anger, something closer to grief finding a new place to stand.

Rosalind hadn't moved. She was staring at the deed still open on the table, at her husband's signature beside a stranger's, dated a season Whitney remembered clearly — the spring Rosalind had been in the hospital for her hip, and Holt had missed two visiting hours "for work."

"Mom," Whitney said carefully. "When did he sign this? The new will."

Lane checked the date at the bottom, and something crossed his face before he answered — reluctance, maybe apology arriving early.

"June. Two years ago," he said. "The week after your father's diagnosis."

Continue the story Part 6: The Key →