Will and his mother walked in. Julia Stewart wore the same sour look she had at the wedding. She glared at Emma.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the little gold-digger herself. Ava, wasn’t it?”
“Her name is Emma,” Will answered, his fists clenched at his sides. “And will not speak to my wife in that manner!”
“Don’t raise your voice at me, I am your mother!”
“You haven’t been my mother in a long time,” Will’s voice was dark. He was angry, but Emma detected a heavy sadness as well. Julia crossed her arms and scoffed, but had no rebuttal for him. Will ignored her presence and took his place at his grandfather’s side again.
“Pop, I spoke with the doctor. She said that you’ve not been well for a while. Why didn’t you say anything?” Will went from an enraged, wounded man
