Whit looked at him calmly.

“That concern was anticipated.”

Inside the folder were two independent capacity evaluations, signed by Warren’s physicians, confirming he was fully competent when the documents were executed.

Then Whit explained the part Warren had clearly known would matter most.

Bethany and Grant were each receiving a fixed cash inheritance and a small list of sentimental items chosen personally by their father.

The house was not theirs.

Neither was the furniture.

Warren had placed the property and nearly everything inside it into a trust for me, with full rights to remain there for the rest of my life.

Bethany slowly looked around at the pink stickers covering my living room.

Whit continued.

“Warren specifically instructed that no property be removed without Coralie’s written permission.”

Grant ripped the blue note off the television.

Nobody laughed.

I walked over to my mother’s clock and peeled Bethany’s pink sticker from its wooden case.

Then I placed it in her palm.

“Looks like this is the only thing you’re taking today.”

By sunset, every sticky note was gone.

Warren could not stop them from showing me who they were after his death.

So he made certain they would show everyone.