Misty\u2019s voice cut through the air above the white rosebushes before I even had a chance to look up from my work. Her expensive heels sank deep into the damp soil of my father\u2019s garden as if she were strutting down a runway instead of treading on the ground where he had spent half his life.<\/p>\n
I continued to snip the dry branches with my pruning shears, moving slowly and carefully just as he had taught me when I was a little girl. He always told me to work without a trembling hand but to never cause unnecessary harm to the plant.<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\n
He had planted these specific rosebushes on the day I married Simon, telling me that white was the color of clean beginnings. Looking back at it now, the irony was almost unbearable as they stood there witnessing the end of my twelve-year marriage.<\/p>\n
The flowers remained steadfast even after my ex-husband had left me for his assistant, the very woman who now stood before me smelling of perfume and radiating arrogance.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood morning, Misty,\u201d I said quietly, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a direct look.<\/p>\n
She flashed that fake, sugary smile she always used when she intended to humiliate someone with a whisper.<\/p>\n
\u201cHarrison\u2019s will is being read tomorrow morning, and Simon and I think it would be best if we talked like adults before things get uncomfortable.\u201d<\/p>\n
I wiped my dirt-stained hands on my gardening apron and stood up to my full height. I was several inches taller than her, even with her wearing those ridiculous designer heels.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere is absolutely nothing for us to talk about, as this is my father\u2019s house.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is actually your father\u2019s estate,\u201d she corrected me, savoring every syllable of the word. \u201cSimon was like a son to him for a very long time, so the least we can expect is to receive what is rightfully ours.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt the heavy weight of the metal scissors in my grip and felt a surge of cold anger.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you talking about the same Simon who cheated on his wife with his own secretary?\u201d I asked in a low, steady voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, please, all of that is in the past now,\u201d she said while waving her hand as if she were shooing away a pesky fly. \u201cHarrison forgave him, and they continued to go to the country club together every Sunday right until the very end.\u201d<\/p>\n
The end had come far too quickly for all of us.<\/p>\n
It had only been three weeks since we laid my father to rest after a brutal eight-month battle with cancer. I didn\u2019t have enough time to tell him everything I wanted to, or to ask why my brother, Jesse, had pulled away from me to cling to Simon instead.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy father didn\u2019t leave Simon a single cent,\u201d I stated firmly, knowing that my dad was many things, but he was never a fool.<\/p>\n
For a brief moment, the confident smile on Misty\u2019s face began to falter.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe will see about that tomorrow, especially since Jesse doesn\u2019t seem to agree with your assessment.\u201d<\/p>\n
A sudden chill ran down my spine at the mention of my brother\u2019s involvement.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you been speaking with my brother behind my back?\u201d<\/p>\n
She took a step closer to me and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial hiss.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s just say he has helped me understand your father\u2019s true mental state during those final months.\u201d<\/p>\n
I gripped my shears so tightly that my knuckles turned white and my fingers began to ache. My dad always said that roses should be treated firmly but never cruelly, because even the sharpest thorns have a purpose.<\/p>\n
\u201cGet off my property, Misty,\u201d I told her, \u201cbefore I forget how to be polite to a guest.\u201d<\/p>\n
She let out a short, dry chuckle that grated on my nerves.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour property? How sweet of you to think that you can keep this fortune all for yourself while the rest of us just sit back and watch.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy father built every inch of this house and planted every tree with his own hands, so this isn\u2019t just about money to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWake up, because everything in this world is about money,\u201d she snapped back at me. \u201cTomorrow you are going to learn that lesson the hard way.\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned to leave, but before she passed through the garden gate, she delivered one final, cruel blow.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou really should start packing, because Simon and I are going to remodel the second we move in. We are going to start by ripping out these old-fashioned rosebushes since everything here needs a more modern look.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her heels clicked away down the stone path until she disappeared from sight. I looked down at the white flowers and realized I had accidentally crushed several delicate petals with my muddy hand.<\/p>\n
I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I knew by heart.<\/p>\n
\u201cAttorney Brenda, it\u2019s me,\u201d I said the moment she picked up the call. \u201cMisty just came here to threaten me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her professional tone shifted instantly to one of deep concern.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat exactly did she say to you, Cassandra?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe said exactly what we were afraid of, so I need to know if you can come over right now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI am on my way,\u201d she replied firmly, \u201cand you shouldn\u2019t worry because your father thought much further ahead than any of them.\u201d<\/p>\n
After I hung up, I noticed something caught under the leaves of a rosebush. It was a small envelope, damp with the morning dew and covered in my father\u2019s unmistakable handwriting.<\/p>\n
It was addressed directly to me, and I picked it up with trembling hands. I felt as if the paper weighed more than it should, as if it held a final, decisive move in a game I didn\u2019t know we were playing.<\/p>\n
Part 2<\/h2>\n
Attorney Brenda arrived twenty minutes later carrying her briefcase and a bottle of wine. She had been my father\u2019s legal counsel for decades, but she was also a dear friend who had known me since I was a child.<\/p>\n
We locked ourselves in the study, which still smelled of the mild tobacco and old wood that always reminded me of my father. I sat in his large leather armchair while still clutching the unopened envelope in my hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou didn\u2019t want to open that alone, did you?\u201d Brenda asked gently.<\/p>\n
I shook my head because I was terrified of what Misty had hinted about my brother Jesse.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour father left very specific instructions, and some things were meant to be discovered only at the right time.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked up at her with confusion…………………………<\/p>\n