Marcus laid out the papers methodically, each one landing with a soft thud on the small hotel table. “Kate,” he said, locking eyes with me, “James was a meticulous planner. He didn’t leave anything to chance, especially not your future.” My throat tightened as he continued, “He set up a trust—irrevocable and ironclad—long before his diagnosis. Your mother-in-law can’t touch it.”
I blinked in disbelief, my heart pounding in my chest. “A trust?”
Marcus nodded. “James ensured you had enough to live comfortably, more than comfortably. And not just financially. He left you this house,” he said, sliding a deed towards me, the address reading a cozy street in Montauk, far from the clutches of my mother-in-law’s grasp. “It’s yours, free and clear.”
