Chapter 6 - The Legacy of the Trust
Minutes later, the nurse confirmed Sophie’s temperature was rising. She was safe, sleepy, and wrapped in one of my father’s flannel shirts because every blanket I owned was locked inside my own home.
That detail broke something in me.
It was the thought of my daughter’s pink blanket sitting warm and dry while she shivered in my arms because grown adults wanted money badly enough to use winter as a weapon.
My father saw my face change.
“Lauren,” he said quietly, “do you want to go home?”
I almost laughed. “He locked me out.”
My father held up the key. “Your mother gave me the spare the day the trust bought it. She said if anyone ever made you feel homeless, I should remind you who the house was meant to protect.”
The truth hit me in pieces.
My mother had died when I was twenty-six. In my grief, I had signed trust papers I barely understood. Caleb had taken over the bills after our wedding and slowly convinced me everything was “ours,” then “his responsibility,” then none of my business. He had not snapped tonight. He had reached the final step of a plan.
May you like
Get me outside. Claim I left. File for temporary custody. Refinance the house before the January trust audit. Take the equity. Use Sophie as leverage.
And Diana had helped because the trust named Sophie as the secondary beneficiary.
