Boston Mother Cancels Twenty Two Million Dollar Wedding Gift After Morning Betrayal
“A home invasion charge would carry significant time, Beatrice.”
“A public trial would carry more shame than I care to inherit,” I said. “I want them gone, not imprisoned.”
“Michael called me yesterday,” Avery said, keeping his voice level.
“Did he ask about the trust?”
“He asked if you were still reading his emails,” Avery said.
“I deleted them,” I said. “Every one.”
We stood in the quiet kitchen for a moment, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator.
“We need to be downtown by noon to meet with the directors,” Avery said, checking his watch.
“I am ready,” I said.
The drive down Tremont Street was quiet, the winter light reflecting off the brick facades of the Common.
For twenty years, I had looked at these buildings as chess pieces, assets to be bought, sold, or leveraged for the sake of the name.
Now, they were just stone and glass, cold against the gray sky.
We entered the downtown high-rise through the private elevator, bypassing the main lobby entirely.
The conference room on the fortieth floor was lined with mahogany and smelled of furniture polish.
