The flowers remained steadfast even after my ex-husband had left me for his assistant, the very woman who now stood before me smelling of perfume and radiating arrogance.
“Good morning, Misty,” I said quietly, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a direct look.
She flashed that fake, sugary smile she always used when she intended to humiliate someone with a whisper.
“Harrison’s will is being read tomorrow morning, and Simon and I think it would be best if we talked like adults before things get uncomfortable.”
I wiped my dirt-stained hands on my gardening apron and stood up to my full height. I was several inches taller than her, even with her wearing those ridiculous designer heels.
“There is absolutely nothing for us to talk about, as this is my father’s house.”
“It is actually your father’s estate,” she corrected me, savoring every syllable of the word. “Simon was like a son to him for a very long time, so the least we can expect is to receive what is rightfully ours.”
