I Married a Wealthy 79-Year-Old Woman for Her Money—After She Died, Her Lawyer Slid Me a Cardboard Box and Said, “You Walked Straight Into Her Trap”
Because it contains the beginning.
Not the beginning where I noticed the mansion.
The beginning where Florence accused a carton of milk of betrayal.
Where I said she was outnumbered.
Where she threatened to run over my foot.
That was the first moment I saw her as a person instead of a problem.
Perhaps not fully.
Enough to start.