At 73, I Married My Dying High School Sweetheart as His Final Wish—After the Funeral, His Lawyer Knocked on My Door and Said, “You Walked Right Into His Trap”
I laughed.
“I thought you trusted him.”
“I do.
Doesn’t mean you stop asking questions.”
That became one of Thomas’s best gifts.
Not the house.
Not money.
Permission to distrust even the people supposedly protecting me.