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”
“He’s my father.”
Florence’s face sharpened.
“That does not mean you must financially destroy yourself.”
“I still can’t take it.”
“Why?”
Because if I took money directly, I would have to admit what I had originally hoped for.
Because some part of me needed to prove I was not the person Sam had heard outside her gate.
Because I had started liking Florence too much to turn her into a financial solution.
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