I was under the impression that I had misunderstood my ex-wife when she made the suggestion that I should transfer the money that I had saved for our deceased son to her stepson. You see, I hadn’t. In the moment that I was seated across from her and her arrogant new husband, their goals became glaringly obvious to me.
Not only was this about money, but it was also about ensuring that my son’s legacy is preserved. During the time when the call came in, I was sitting on Evan’s bed. There were still textbooks heaped on the desk, sketchbooks that were only halfway done, and medals from scientific fairs and math leagues hanging by the window.
His room had not changed since the accident. I whispered, “You were always ten steps ahead of me, kid,” as I ran my fingers along the edge of a framed photo that was sitting on the nightstand. Evan’s smile, which was a combination of mischief and brightness, appeared to wink at me from behind the glass.
This picture was shot right before he was accepted into Stanford University. My smart young man. In fact, he was never even able to visit the school.
Because of the drunk driver, that was guaranteed. When the knock came, I was still seated there when it occurred. It was Mia, who had formerly been my wife.
It was earlier that she had left a message that read, “We need to talk about Evan’s fund.” Even though her tone was friendly, it was too polished and too scripted. At this same moment, she was standing in the entranceway of my home. Before I could give her a response, she entered the room and asked, “Am I allowed to come in?”
I indicated that I was going to the living room.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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