Claire Bennett never raised her voice.
That made her terrifying.
She stood in my living room wearing a gray suit, reviewing Marjorie’s folder while I sat on the couch twisting Daniel’s sweatshirt in my hands. Marjorie hovered near the fireplace performing wounded dignity.
“This is a private family matter,” Marjorie said. “You have no right to interfere.”
Claire looked up calmly. “I represent Daniel Reeves’s estate and his wife, Hannah Reeves. So I have every right.”
Marjorie’s jaw tightened. “Daniel wanted his mother protected.”
“He did,” Claire answered. “He also wanted his wife and child protected more.”
Then she opened her own folder.
Daniel’s will.
Our house deed.
