Nobody corrected her language.
"The question is what we do with this information," Vivienne said. She had recovered some of her composure, her mind clearly racing through options and outcomes. "If we go public, Mother will deny everything. She'll have lawyers. Evidence of her own. The original will was filed with the estate attorneys—she'll claim this letter is the forgery."
"So we get more proof."
They all turned to look at Harlow.
She stood straighter now, her shoulders squared, something fierce burning behind her red-rimmed eyes. This was the Harlow that Cassidy sometimes glimpsed in moments of crisis. The one who had held their father's hand when he died. The one who had kept them all together when everything else fell apart.
"Father was smart," Harlow said. "Smarter than Mother ever gave him credit for. If he knew she might try to change his will, he wouldn't have left just one letter. He would have left copies. Evidence. Something she couldn't touch."
