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Suddenly, all the anger, all the distance, meant nothing. I quit my job and returned home. I started teaching at the local school and quietly took care of him. We didn’t talk about the past. We didn’t need to.
One evening, he whispered a quiet, “Thank you.”
Betrayal at the Funeral
Patrick didn’t even pretend to care. When he arrived at the funeral home, his first words were, “So, he’s finally dead?” There were no tears. No reflection. Just cold calculation.
He was once a skilled worker at my father’s company. I’d admired him. Trusted him. Even considered him a brother before he married Sophia. But over the years, that man vanished. In his place stood someone who played the part of dutiful son-in-law, all while quietly angling for control.
And he got it. My father’s will shocked us all. Patrick — a son-in-law — inherited nearly everything. He received the majority of shares, company ownership, and wealth. Sophia and I? Barely anything.
My piece of the inheritance?
An old pickup truck.
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