bare in black and white.
My father had been an accountant. He taught me the importance of documentation.
“People can argue with your words,” he’d say, “but they can’t argue with numbers.”
How right he’d been.
I made my first call at precisely seven a.m. to Jonathan Mills, my father’s attorney and the executor of his will.
“Sophia? Everything all right? Isn’t today the big wedding?” His familiar voice carried concern.
“There’s been a change of plans, Jonathan. I need to discuss the property on Maple Avenue, the one
