“I think this may be beyond us,” she admitted.
Patricia smiled.
Not pityingly.
Not dismissively.
“That’s completely fine,” she said.
“Let’s look at what might work.”
I kept walking.
My hand brushed the carved brass handle near the hallway, the one Vanessa had stood beside while explaining that places like Belmore belonged to people who had actually built something.
For years, I’d thought dignity meant proving people wrong.
Belmore taught me something quieter.
Sometimes dignity was simply refusing to become cruel once you finally had the power to be.
My sister had walked into my estate believing money determined who deserved respect.
I could have humiliated her with the truth.
Instead, I let the truth stand on its own.
It was enough.
