My hands started to tremble. I felt a cold sweat break out across my neck. All those years. All those double shifts. All those times Kevin worked in the freezing garage with cracked knuckles to send her money.

Every single dollar we had given her over the last decade had been deposited directly into that savings account. She wasn’t paying utility bills. She wasn’t fixing plumbing. She was hoarding cash.

“But that is not all,” Lawyer Vance continued, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. “The will stipulates that the entirety of the estate, including the house and the 380,000 dollars, is to be left to her sole beneficiary, Gerald Vance.”

I frowned, my head spinning. “Who is Gerald Vance? Are you related to him?”

“He is my cousin,” the lawyer said, his face remaining completely expressionless. “But more importantly, he was your mother’s financial advisor for the last 15 years.”

I stood up. My legs felt weak, like they were made of water. I grabbed the blue coupon binder that I had brought with me, thinking it only contained old grocery receipts. I marched out of the office, Kevin following close behind me, his face a mask of confusion and anger.

We got into my rusty Buick, and the engine groaned as I turned the key. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number for Gerald Vance’s office, which was listed on the bank statement. My fingers were shaking so badly I dropped the phone twice onto the dirty floor mat.

He answered on the third ring. His voice was smooth, the voice of a man who sold insurance or mutual funds to retirees.

“This is Sarah,” I said, my voice cracking. “Helen’s daughter. I am sitting in your cousin’s office right now. Why does my mother’s will leave 380,000 dollars to you?”

There was a long pause on the other end. I could hear him shifting papers on his desk. When he spoke, the smooth tone was gone. He sounded incredibly nervous.

“Sarah, please,” he muttered, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t understand the whole story. Your mother and I had a very specific arrangement. She paid me 2,000 dollars a month for 15 years to…”

“To do what?” I demanded, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. “She was begging us for utility money! She took 20,000 dollars from my brother! She took pension money from her elderly sister!”

“She paid me to run her finances in a very specific way,” Gerald stuttered. “She wanted to make sure she always qualified for low-income state assistance and free medical care. But she also… she had a condition, Sarah. She was addicted to the feeling of being taken care of.”