Emily
I could not bring myself to get dressed for my court date with Dorothy. She had submitted the video evidence into the case, and it turned from the question of my inheritance to a murder trial against my father. I suppose, though, that I do not consider him to be my father anymore, but more of a man who has broken my heart repeatedly throughout the years.
I forced myself to go to the office instead, making myself at home behind my wooden desk with a familiar mug of tea, just off to the side. I visit myself with wedding planning, calling caterers as well as flower vendors to confirm the garlands that Logan and I want for our special day. Every now and then, my eyes move back to my phone, hoping to see a notification that things have worked out in my favor, that my baby cousin Derek w
