Warren stepped forward, dragging his dignity behind him like a torn flag.
“I am the oldest living male relative in this family,” he said. “If there is any family estate, it should be managed through me.”
I almost laughed, though my face hurt too much.
My father had warned me about that tone, the one Warren used whenever he wanted theft to sound like duty.
Mr. Pierce ignored him and handed me a folded white handkerchief.
“Ms. Nora Voss, are you well enough for me to proceed?”
Every head turned toward me.
Ms. Nora Voss.
Not poor Nora.
Not that girl.
Not the little burden from the bad side of the family.
I pressed the handkerchief against my mouth and stood straighter.
“Please continue.”
Camille’s face tightened.
“She is grieving and confused,” she said quickly. “She cannot possibly understand legal matters at a time like this.”
“I understand enough,” I replied.
