“No,” Lenora said. “Not yet.”
Vincent nodded once.
She looked at Darnell.
“I want the truth stated clearly.”
His face tightened. “What truth?”
“The truth about our marriage.”
His eyes flashed warning.
Lenora felt the old fear rise. It crawled up through her ribs, familiar as a second pulse. For years, that look had been enough to silence her. At dinner tables. In cars. In hallways. In the kitchen after Beverly had criticized food Lenora spent all day cooking. At night when Darnell came home smelling like someone else’s perfume and dared her to ask.
Tonight the fear rose.
And kept going.
It passed through her.
She survived it.
Vincent opened the folder.
“Our office began reviewing Mr. Washington’s financial and personal conduct after Miss Harrison contacted us earlier today,” he said. “Given the transfer of estate control, standard legal protection protocols required an immediate risk assessment.”
Darnell’s expression changed again.
