“You should start packing your bags right away, because the moment they read that will tomorrow, this entire estate is going to be ours.”

Tabitha’s voice sliced across the white rosebushes before I had even lifted my head from my work. Her costly heels sank into the damp earth of my father’s garden as though she were walking a fashion runway instead of stepping across the soil he had tended for half his life.

I kept trimming the dead branches with my pruning shears, working slowly and precisely, exactly as my father had taught me when I was young. He always said to keep a steady hand while avoiding unnecessary damage to anything still alive. He had planted those particular roses on the day I married Calvin, explaining that white represented new beginnings.

Looking back now, the irony was nearly unbearable. Those same flowers had remained while my twelve-year marriage came apart and my former husband left me for his assistant—the woman now standing in front of me wrapped in expensive perfume and absolute entitlement.

“Good morning, Tabitha,” I said softly, denying her the satisfaction of eye contact.

She gave me her artificial smile. “Everett’s will is being read tomorrow morning, and Calvin and I think it would be best if we talked like adults before things get uncomfortable.”

I wiped my dirt-covered hands against my gardening apron and rose to my full height. “There is absolutely nothing for us to talk about, as this is my father’s house.”

“It is actually your father’s estate,” she corrected smugly. “Calvin was like a son to him for a very long time, so the least we can expect is to receive what is rightfully ours.”

A cold wave of anger moved through me. “Are you talking about the same Calvin who cheated on his wife with his own secretary?”

“Oh, please, all of that is in the past now,” she waved her hand. “Everett forgave him, and they continued to go to the country club together every Sunday right until the very end.”

The end had arrived too quickly. Only three weeks had passed since we buried my father after an eight-month struggle with illness. I had not even had enough time to ask why my brother, Kyle, had pulled away from me and moved closer to Calvin.

“My father didn’t leave Calvin a single cent,” I said firmly.

For an instant, Tabitha’s confidence flickered. “We will see about that tomorrow, especially since Kyle doesn’t seem to agree with your assessment.”

A chill ran through me. “Have you been speaking with my brother behind my back?”

She moved closer and hissed, “Let’s just say he has helped me understand your father’s true mental state during those final months.”

I tightened my grip on my pruning shears. “Get off my property, Tabitha, before I forget how to be polite to a guest.”

She laughed dryly. “Your property? Tomorrow you are going to learn the hard way that everything in this world is about money.” Before turning toward the gate, she threw one final cruelty: “You really should start packing, because Calvin and I are going to start by ripping out these old fashioned rosebushes.”

After she left, I immediately called Attorney Penelope, my father’s legal adviser of decades and an old family friend. “Tabitha just came here to threaten me,” I told her. “She said exactly what we were afraid of.”

“I am on my way,” Penelope replied firmly, “and you shouldn’t worry because your father thought much further ahead than any of them.”

After ending the call, I noticed something trapped beneath the leaves of one rosebush: a small envelope, damp from the morning dew, marked with my father’s unmistakable handwriting and my name on the front…