I had printed the photographs.
The predated notary page.
The power of attorney.
My private account balance.
Neil went pale.
“Mavis told me she just needed the statements to help you.”
“I know,” I said.
Mavis pushed back her chair.
“This proves nothing.”
“You’re right.”
I nodded to Mr. Keaton.
He placed the trust on the table.
“Harlan established this months before his final decline,” I said. “The house is in it. The investments are in it. I am the sole beneficiary and the sole trustee.”
Mavis stared at me.
“The will was real,” I continued. “It just didn’t contain what you thought it did.”
Her face hardened.
“Harlan manipulated everyone.”
“No. He gave you a choice.”
“What choice?”
“To leave me alone.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Mavis laughed bitterly.
“You’re ninety years old. You think they’re going to let you manage all that forever?”
Mr. Keaton reached for another document.
“I underwent a full cognitive evaluation yesterday,” I said. “My doctor is quite satisfied.”
Mavis’s eyes narrowed.
Then she looked at my children.
“You all know this is dangerous.”
Nobody answered.
Finally, I took the last envelope from my purse.
I placed one photocopy in front of her.
She saw her father’s signature first.
Then her own.
The color disappeared from her face.
“Where did you get this?”
“Harlan kept it.”
Her fingers began to tremble.
“He promised.”
“He kept his promise for thirty-one years.”
I looked at her.
“And I intend to keep it too.”
She stared at me.
“I’m not sending this anywhere. I’m not telling your children. I’m not trying to punish you for something you did decades ago.”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“But if you ever try to take control of my money, my house, or my life again, Mr. Keaton will handle it.”
Mavis looked around the table.
No one defended her.
She slowly gathered her folder.
At the doorway, she stopped.
“Harlan always thought he was smarter than everyone.”
I shook my head.
“No. He just knew his sister.”
She left without another word.