Then my wife looked toward the camera and smiled.
“Forty years,” she said, raising her glass. “And he still signs whatever I put in front of him.”
My chest tightened.
My daughter-in-law laughed.
“He didn’t even read it,” she said. “The wedding made everything easier.”
Then came the question that changed everything.
“And the house?”
My wife calmly replied:
“In her name by next quarter. The transfer is already arranged.”
The $80,000 check wasn’t a gift.
The wedding wasn’t about love.
It was a plan.
I watched as my wife handed over the envelope I had given my son.
“Consider it your start,” she said.
My daughter-in-law smiled.
“I always knew I picked the right family.”
The video ended.
Tony asked if I wanted to stop it.
“No,” I said. “I needed to see everything.”
I took the flash drive and drove home.
The lilies were still on the table. My wife looked up.
“You were gone a while.”
“Pharmacy was backed up,” I replied.
She believed me.
That was the part that hurt the most.
The next morning, I told her:
“I’m going to the bank to review everything.”
Her smile froze for just a second.
“Why?”
I looked at her calmly.
“I’ll handle it.”
For forty years, I had been the man who signed whatever was placed in front of him.
Not anymore.