PART 1: The Intruder in the Garden

“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.

They had survived even after 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 the sugary, artificial smile she always wore when she planned to humiliate someone quietly.

“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.

Even in her absurd designer heels, she was still several inches shorter than I was.

“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, lingering over the final word.

“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.”

The weight of the metal shears felt heavy in my hand as a cold wave of anger moved through me.

“Are you talking about the same Calvin who cheated on his wife with his own secretary?” I asked, keeping my voice low and controlled.

“Oh, please, all of that is in the past now,” she said, flicking one hand as though brushing away an annoying insect.

“Everett forgave him, and they continued to go to the country club together every Sunday right until the very end.”