The following week, we gathered for the reading of Dad’s will. My relatives were there, along with a few family friends. The notary, a stern man with a kind heart, began to read my father’s last wishes.

The room was quiet as he went through the formalities. Then, he paused, glancing at me before continuing. “The house,” he said, “is not listed in the will.”

Confusion flickered across the faces of my mother and Emma. “What do you mean?” Mom demanded, her voice shrill with disbelief.

The notary cleared his throat. “The house isn’t in the will because it was transferred before Mr. Thompson’s passing.”