The morning dew still clung to the roses when I heard the crunch of expensive heels on my garden path. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Only one person would dare to wear Louboutins to stomp through my father’s prized garden—the same woman who’d destroyed my marriage and was now apparently coming for my inheritance.
“Madeline?” Her voice dripped with fake sweetness, the kind that makes your teeth ache. “Still playing in the dirt, I see.”
I continued pruning my father’s white roses, the ones he’d planted for my wedding day fifteen years ago. The wedding that had ended in divorce papers and my ex-husband running off with the woman now standing behind me, casting her shadow across the flower bed like a dark omen.
“Hello, Haley.”
“You know why I’m here.” She moved closer, her perfume overpowering the delicate scent of the roses. “The reading of the will is tomorrow, and Holden and I think it’s best if we discuss things… civilly.”
I finally turned around, wiping my soil-covered hands on my gardening apron. The woman before me looked like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine—designer dress, perfect makeup, hair styled within an inch of its life.
Everything about her screamed expensive, from her manicured nails to her leather handbag that probably cost more than most people’s monthly rent. “There’s nothing to discuss. This is my father’s house.”
“Was his house,” Haley corrected, her perfectly painted red lips curling into a smirk that made my blood boil.
“And since Holden was like a son to Miles for fifteen years, we believe we’re entitled to our fair share.”
The pruning shears in my hand suddenly felt heavier, and I had to consciously remind myself not to grip them too tightly. “The same Holden who cheated on his daughter with his secretary? That Holden?”
“Ancient history,” Haley waved her manicured hand dismissively, as if my pain and humiliation were nothing more than a minor inconvenience she’d overcome.
“Miles forgave him. They still played golf every Sunday until…” She paused for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying herself. “Well, you know.”
My father’s death was still raw, a wound that hadn’t even begun to scab over.
He’d been gone just two weeks, and here was this woman, this vulture, circling what she thought was easy prey. The grief sat heavy in my chest, mixing with anger at her audacity to show up here, on his property, making demands before he was even cold in his grave. “My father wouldn’t have left Holden anything,” I said firmly, standing up to my full height and meeting her eyes directly.
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