Robert glanced back at the reception hall, then lowered his voice. “Mom.”
“You missed the ceremony. You look like you ran here.”
I stared at him.
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking. I swear to you.”
“You’re saying Mom told you something… after she died?”
“No,” he replied quickly. “Before.”
We stood near a row of coat racks, half-hidden by tall plants. People passed nearby, smiling, unaware that my entire body felt like it was about to collapse.
“I’m not joking. I swear to you.”
“A lawyer called me this morning. I almost didn’t answer. I thought it was spam.”
