That little performance only made Clay more protective. He whipped around to glare at me, his tone cold as ice. "Dorothy, out of respect for Evangeline's kind heart, I won't hold this against you. But you need to move this memorial. Now. Get it out of here before it ruins my mother's birthday."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a check, and flung it at my feet. "There's five hundred thousand dollars. Enough to give your mother a proper funeral. Take the money and go. Don't let me see your face again."
The check drifted to the ground and landed in front of my mother-in-law's memorial tablet. I stared at that flimsy slip of paper, then looked up at the man standing before me, a man I no longer recognized.
Slowly, I bent down. Picked up the check. Tore it to shreds. And let the pieces scatter in front of him.