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”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know how to explain now.”
She smiled slightly.
“Try.”
“I worry whether you’ve eaten.”
She waited.
“I know which floorboard squeaks beside your bedroom.”