When my husband heard the doctor say I had only 3 days left, he held my hand, smiled, and whispered, “Finally. Only 3 days. Your house and your money are mine now.”(3/6)

“Really?” He had checked the safe. Had Evelyn outwitted him? A cold wave crawled up his spine.

“When did she manage that? That’s impossible. She was unconscious.”

“The entire estate that belonged to her at the time of her death has been bequeathed to another person,” Okonnell said.

A pause. Paul needed a moment to grasp the meaning. The air in the room seemed to freeze.

The realization hit him like a sledgehammer. He had killed for nothing. “You mean I am not the heir according to the will?” His voice was suddenly thin.

“Miss Vance disposed of her property differently. It was her legal right.”

Paul jumped up. His façade of grief crumbled in an instant.

“That’s impossible. She was in a coma. When did she manage that?” he almost screamed.

Anger distorted his handsome face. “The will was drawn up one day before her death, in the presence of a public notary, a psychiatric doctor who confirmed her legal capacity, and two witnesses. Everything is absolutely lawful.

We took every legal precaution you can imagine.”

“To whom?” Paul asked. He felt his back turn cold. “To whom did she leave it?

My cousin? A foundation?”

“The heir will be announced tomorrow at 10:00 at the notary’s office,” Okonnell said evenly. “Your attendance is mandatory.”

“I will contest it!” Paul slammed his fist onto the polished mahogany desk.

The cognac glass rattled. “She was not of sound mind. She was sick.

This is a farce.”

“We have a doctor’s certificate confirming her full legal capacity at the moment of signing. There is a video recording and the statements of the notary. She was mentally lucid, Mr.

Garrett.” Okonnell stood up. “I advise you to prepare yourself morally and hire your own attorney. The will is a fortress.”

He left without saying goodbye.

Paul remained alone, breathing heavily. A will. How dare she?

How had she managed it? He grabbed the phone and dialed Victoria’s number. “We have a problem,” he said.

“A huge problem. Evelyn tricked us.”

The next morning, Paul appeared at the notary’s office. He had barely slept.

Victoria Shaw accompanied him. He introduced her as a family friend supporting him in this difficult hour. She wore a dark suit and nervously looked around.

The notary, the same older gentleman, received them in his office. Okonnell and his assistant Tiffany Marorrow were already seated there. “Where is the heir?” Paul asked sharply, his voice slightly trembling.

He expected to see a distant relative or a business partner. “The heir has sent a representative,” the notary replied. “Her interests are represented by attorney Okonnell based on a notarized power of attorney.”

“Who is she?

Where is she?” Paul demanded. The notary opened the file and pulled out the document. He looked at Paul with a mixture of pity and contempt.

“According to the will of Evelyn Vance, the sole heir to her entire estate is Chloe Jefferson, residing…” He read the address. “Who is that?” Paul couldn’t believe his ears. “I have never heard of her.”

“ The cleaning lady from the hospital where your wife passed away,” the notary confirmed dryly.

Victoria gripped Paul’s arm and squeezed it to warn him not to completely lose his composure. He swallowed his rage and forced himself to speak calmly. “That’s absurd.

Evelyn didn’t know this girl. How could she leave everything to her?”

“The testatrix is entitled to bequeath her property to any person she wishes,” Okonnell answered casually, as if commenting on the weather. “The law does not require a justification of motives.

But I can assure you, Miss Vance had very clear motives.”

“But she was sick, not of sound mind.” Paul clung to the only straw left. “On the contrary.” Okonnell placed the psychiatric evaluation on the table. “Here is the report from the psychiatrist who conducted the assessment immediately before the will was signed.

Conclusion: legally capable, consciousness clear, free will. A video recording of the process also exists. The notary personally recorded her will.

Everything is impeccably drawn up.”

Paul felt the ground sinking beneath his feet. His face was ashen. “And what about me?” he whispered.

The notary patiently explained the obvious. “Your wife’s assets were acquired before the marriage. Therefore, they are not community property.

As the surviving spouse, you are only entitled to your share of the property acquired together—that is, what you bought or earned during the 3 years of marriage. The house, the hospitals, the commercial properties, the accounts, all of that belonged to Miss Vance before the marriage. By the will, these assets transfer to Miss Jefferson.”

“You mean I get nothing?” Paul’s voice was a whimper.

“You have your salary from the 3 years, your personal savings, the car registered in your name. That is your share of the jointly acquired property. Miss Vance ensured you are absolutely destitute.”

Paul was silent.

His head was buzzing. Three years. For 3 years he had poisoned her, pretended, been patient.

For what? So some damn cleaning woman could get the millions. The revenge was perfect.

“Where is she?” he asked quietly, dangerously quiet. “Miss Jefferson has accepted the inheritance through her representative,” the notary replied. “Her whereabouts do not need to be disclosed to you.”

“I want to talk to her.

I will make her an offer she cannot refuse.”

“That is impossible,” Okonnell interjected. “My client does not wish any contact with you. You are considered the murderer of your wife and a threat to Miss Jefferson.”

“I will contest the will!

I will sue!”

“That is your right,” Okonnell said coldly. “But I warn you, we have every reason to believe the contest will be unsuccessful. The will is legally flawless.

The testatrix’s intent is clearly expressed. The medical documents confirm legal capacity. There is no basis to invalidate the will.

You are only wasting your own money on lawyers.”

Paul stood up, swaying. Victoria supported him. They left the notary’s office in silence.

On the street, Paul stopped and turned to Victoria. His eyes burned with untamed hatred. “Everything has collapsed,” he whispered.

“Not everything.” Victoria looked at him sharply. She wasn’t ready to give up her own part in the betrayal. “We find this girl, force her to reject it.

Intimidate, bribe, whatever. The main thing is to act quickly.”

“Okonnell has hidden her somewhere. We will find her.

I have contacts, people who know how to search. Give me a couple of days. We will take back what is ours.”

Paul nodded.

Hatred simmered in his chest. Evelyn had outsmarted him. Even in death, her revenge had succeeded.

But he wouldn’t give up. Not after everything he had invested. His only drive now was the destruction of Chloe.

Meanwhile, a meeting was taking place in Okonnell’s office. Jason Okonnell sat across from Tiffany Marorrow and the private investigator, Detective Roy Singleton—a former police officer, a sturdy man of 42 with streaks of gray in his hair. Singleton had a reputation for being relentless and discreet.

“The situation is as follows,” Okonnell began. “Chloe Jefferson is safe. She has moved to a neighboring region, Charlotte, rented a room, and taken a temporary job.

But Garrett will look for her. He won’t stop. He is dangerous and desperate.”

“What can he do?” Tiffany asked.

“Intimidate, bribe, force her to renounce the inheritance. In the extreme case—if she refuses—physically eliminate her. We are dealing with someone who systematically poisoned his wife.

He is capable of anything. We must not only protect Chloe but also neutralize him legally.”

Singleton nodded. He had studied Evelyn Vance’s case files and was impressed by her foresight and intelligence.

“I will check all the hospital surveillance cameras,” he said. “I will trace who had contact with Miss Vance in the last months. I will check the pharmacies for what Garrett purchased, what medications, if he poisoned her.

Traces remain. There are always traces.”

“Good. Another point.

We need the criminal prosecution. Without it, Garrett remains free and will continue to hunt Chloe. I have already prepared the complaint for the district attorney.

I am enclosing the toxicological reports that Evelyn Vance commissioned. They clearly show the substance in the blood that she was not medically prescribed.”

Tiffany inquired, “And what if the report doesn’t confirm the poisoning?”

“It will confirm it. Evelyn was meticulous.

She sent samples to two independent labs. The results are identical. Furthermore, she documented the deterioration of her condition by date, keeping a diary of symptoms.

All of these are circumstantial but weighty evidence. She documented her own murder case.”

“Who are we giving the case to?” Tiffany asked. “District Attorney David Chen.

He is a professional. He doesn’t take bribes. If anyone will bring it to trial, it’s him.

He loves cases based on calculation.”

Singleton stood up. “I’ll start working. I’ll deliver the first results tomorrow.

I’ll focus on the pharmacies and the camera footage first.”

He left. “Contact Chloe,” Okonnell told Tiffany. “Tell her everything is going according to plan.

She should stay calm, not show herself. If anything happens, she should call me immediately. I want her to feel safe but not become negligent.”

“Understood,” Tiffany said.

“And one more thing—request all documents from Miss Vance: contracts, deeds, statements. I want to be sure that every asset is legally protected. Garrett will try to find loopholes.

We close them in advance. Evelyn’s will must be untouchable.”

Tiffany nodded and went out. Okonnell remained alone.

He opened the safe, took out a copy of the will, and read it again. Everything was right. Every word, every comma.

Evelyn Vance was a smart woman. Even in death, she had thought of every detail. He remembered their last conversation in the hospital room, how calmly she looked at him without fear.

“Jason, I know I’m dying, but I want him to get nothing. Not a single cent. He must understand that he killed me for nothing.

His triumph must become his greatest defeat.”

“Miss Vance, are you sure you want to give everything to Miss Jefferson? You barely know her.”

“I know her. That’s enough.

She is honest. She works for a pittance, rents a room, pays off the loan for her deceased mother’s treatment. You can’t buy people like that.

You can entrust revenge to people like that.”

“Revenge?”

“Yes, I want Paul to go to prison, to be convicted of my murder. And Chloe is a witness. She saw him enter the room.

She heard what I said afterward. She will help the investigation. She promised me she will be my hand to execute justice.”

Okonnell had nodded then.

And now he was fulfilling the promise he had made to a dying client. He locked the will back in the safe and picked up the phone. He dialed District Attorney Chen’s number.

“Mr. Chen, Okonnell. I have material for you.

Possible premeditated murder by systematic poisoning. I am sending you the documents. The case is complicated but promising.

The evidence is unusually strong.”

Chen was silent on the other end. “Send it,” he said finally. “I’ll look it over.

Thank you. I’ll await the documents.”

Okonnell hung up. Now all that remained was waiting—waiting for the wheels of justice to begin grinding slowly but inevitably.

Meanwhile, Chloe Jefferson sat in her small rental room in Charlotte on an old sofa, looking out the window. A fine autumn rain was drizzling outside. The drops ran down the glass and merged into winding rivulets.

She still couldn’t believe it. Everything seemed like a dream. Two days ago, she had been mopping floors in a hospital hallway, earning a small wage, counting pennies until the next payday.

And today her lawyer, Okonnell, had informed her that she was the heir to a massive fortune. Chloe was not happy. She was afraid.

The enormous sum felt not like a gift but like an undeserved burden, a magnet for evil. She knew Evelyn’s husband wouldn’t leave her alone. He would come.

He would search. And what then? Her phone vibrated.

Tiffany Marorrow. “Miss Jefferson. How are you doing?”

“Pretty good.

I’m at home. It’s quiet here.”

“Excellent. Don’t go out unnecessarily.

Garrett has already begun searching. We are monitoring his activities. He doesn’t know where you are yet, but be careful.

Stay in the shadows.”

“All right. I understand.”

“One more thing. Soon the district attorney will want to call you for a statement about what you saw in the hospital—what Miss Vance said.

Be ready. Your testimony is crucial.”

“I’m ready. I promised her.