Part 1
"You should start packing immediately, because as soon as they read this tomorrow, the entire estate will be ours."
Misty's voice pierced the air above the white roses before I even had time to look up from my work. Her stiletto heels sank into the damp earth of my father's garden, as if she were walking down a catwalk rather than treading the ground where he had spent half his life.
I continued to prune the dead branches with the shears, slowly and carefully, just as he had taught me when I was little. He always told me to work with a steady hand, never damaging the tree unnecessarily.
She'd planted those rose bushes on the very day of my wedding to Simon, telling me that white symbolized new beginnings. Looking back, the irony is almost unbearable: there they were, witnesses to the end of my twelve-year marriage.
The flowers remained unchanged even after my ex-husband left me for his assistant, the same woman who now stood before me, drenched in perfume and radiating arrogance.
“Hi, Misty,” I said softly, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a direct look.
He flashed that fake, honeyed smile he always used when he wanted to humiliate someone with a whisper.
"Harrison's will will be read tomorrow morning, and Simon and I think it would be best to discuss it as adults before things get awkward."
I wiped my dirt-stained hands on my gardening apron and stood up to my full height. I was much taller than her, even in her ridiculous stiletto heels.
"We have absolutely nothing to say to each other, because this is my father's house."
"This is actually your father's legacy," he corrected me, savoring every syllable. "Simon was like a son to him for a long time, so we have a right to expect what is rightfully ours."
I felt the weight of the metal scissors in my hand and a wave of cold anger washed over me.
"Are you talking about the same Simon who cheated on his wife with his secretary?" I asked softly and calmly.
"Oh, come on, it's all over now," she said, waving her hand as if swatting away a pesky fly. "Harrison forgave him, and they continued going to the country club together every Sunday until the end."
The end came too quickly for all of us.
Only three weeks had passed since my father's funeral, after an eight-month battle with cancer. I hadn't had time to tell him everything I wanted to, nor to ask him why my brother, Jesse, had distanced himself from me to be closer to Simon.
“My father didn’t leave Simon a single penny,” I stated firmly, even though I knew my father had many qualities, but that he had never been a fool.
For a brief moment, the confident smile that lit up Misty's face began to falter.
"We'll see tomorrow, especially since Jesse doesn't seem to share your opinion."
A sudden shiver ran down my spine at the mere mention of my brother's involvement.
"Did you talk to my brother behind my back?"
He took a step toward me and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial hiss.
"Let's just say it helped me understand your father's true state of mind during his final months."
I gripped the scissors so tightly that my knuckles turned white and my fingers began to hurt. My father always said that roses should be treated firmly, but never cruelly, because even the sharpest thorns have their uses.
“Get off my property, Misty,” I told her, “before I forget how to be polite to a guest.”
He gave a short, dry laugh that irritated me deeply.
"Your wealth? How kind of you to think you can keep all that wealth for yourself while the rest of us sit around doing nothing!"
"My father built every inch of this house and planted every tree with his own hands, so for me it's not just about the money."
"Wake up, because in this world everything revolves around money," he replied sharply. "You'll learn that the hard way tomorrow."
He turned to leave, but before crossing the garden gate, he struck one last, cruel blow.
"You should really start packing, because Simon and I are going to renovate everything as soon as we get there. We'll start by uprooting these old rose bushes, because everything here needs a more modern style."
Her heels clicked on the stone path until she disappeared from my sight. I looked down at the white flowers and realized I'd accidentally crushed some delicate petals with my muddy hand.
I took out my phone and dialed a number I knew by heart.
"It's me, Mrs. Brenda," I said as soon as she answered. "Misty came here to threaten me."
His professional tone immediately gave way to deep concern.
"What exactly did he tell you, Cassandra?"
"He said exactly what we feared, so I need to know if you can come right away."
“I’m coming,” she replied firmly, “and you don’t have to worry because your father has seen much further than anyone else.”
After hanging up, I noticed something hidden under the leaves of a rose bush. It was a small envelope, damp with morning dew and covered in my father's unmistakable handwriting.
It was addressed directly to me, and I picked it up with a shaking hand. I felt like the paper weighed more than it should, as if it contained the final, decisive move in a game we were playing without knowing it.
Part 2.
Attorney Brenda arrived twenty minutes later, carrying her briefcase and a bottle of wine. She had been my father's attorney for decades, but she was also a dear friend I'd known since childhood.
We locked ourselves in the office, where that faint smell of tobacco and old wood, which always reminded me of my father, still lingered. Sitting in his large leather chair, I still clutched the unopened envelope.
"You didn't want to open it yourself, did you?" Brenda asked sweetly.
I shook my head, terrified at what Misty had insinuated about my brother Jesse.
"Your father left very specific instructions, and certain things were to be discovered only at the right time."
I looked at her, puzzled.
"Misty brought a film crew with her," Jesse whispered, coming in behind me. "She's practicing her victory speech in front of a mirror."
Brenda closed her presentation with a small, knowing smile.
"Let them film everything, it will make a very interesting video later."
Misty entered first, dressed in a black designer dress, as if she were attending a red-carpet funeral. Simon followed her, visibly uncomfortable with a tie that seemed far too tight around his neck.
The film crew began setting up lights and microphones in the offices, as if they were on a movie set.
“We can start now,” Misty said, crossing her legs with obvious impatience.
Brenda sat down and cleared her throat to get everyone's attention.
"I will now read Harrison Miller's will, including the legal changes made before his death."
As she continued reading, everything unfolded exactly as Brenda had predicted. The house, stocks, and investments were divided, with forty percent supposedly going to Simon and Misty as "support."
Misty let out a little squeal of joy and squeezed Simon's arm in triumph.
"I told you, he knew who his real friends were!"
I stood perfectly still and waited for the trap to close.
“However,” Brenda continued coldly, “there is a codicil signed three days before Mr. Miller’s death.”
The smile on Misty's face instantly froze.
"A codicil? What is that?"
"This is a legislative amendment that establishes that the acceptance of any inheritance is subject to a thorough investigation into financial fraud and corruption."
A dead silence fell over the room as Brenda slid the photos and USB stick onto the desk, in full view of everyone.
"We have evidence of illegal payments, attempted purchases of medical records, and systematic embezzlement within the family business."
Simon grabbed one of the photos and his face went ghostly pale.
"Where did you find it?" he stammered.
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