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“Yes.”

“I doubt he left you anything,” she said nastily.

I was trying to retain my composure. “I doubt it, too.”

“You shouldn’t have defied him for all those years. He might have left you something.”

“I have enough of my own.” I turned away to go sit down on the other side of the room –

“Are you coming to the funeral?” my mother asked.

I turned back, surprised. “Of course.”

Her eyes turned into slits, and her lips parted in a sneer. “Don’t you dare bring your whore to my husband’s funeral.”

I wanted to kill her.

I wanted to slap her so hard that her neck would break.

“Mom, shush,” Vincent whispered harshly.

“I’m only calling a spade a spade – ”

“Mom, shut up,” Vincent hissed.

“Don’t you talk to me that – ”

“ALL RIGHT, everyone,” the senior partner interrupted loudly, “now that Connor is here, we can begin the reading of the will.”

That shut my mother right up.

It was feeding time, after all – and a vulture can’t say too much when its beak is full.

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