Quickly at first.
Then slower.
Then from the beginning.
His expression changed.
“No,” he whispered.
Chloe moved closer.
“What does it say?”
Austin swallowed.
“It says Mom transferred the house into a protected trust.”
Chloe stared at him.
“A trust?”
He nodded.
“Three years ago.”
Three years.
Sitting in the taxi, I closed my eyes and remembered.
Ernest was at our kitchen table, his hands trembling as he signed the paperwork.
Afterward, he looked at me.
“Theresa, promise me something.”
“What?”
“Don’t let them turn this house into your punishment for surviving me.”
I promised him.
And Ernest had protected that promise.
Without telling Austin, he instructed our attorney to establish the trust.
The house, the savings connected to it, and the modest investment account we had built together were protected.
Austin knew nothing about it.
