Chapter 1
My ex-husband’s new wife barged into my late father’s home and ordered, “Start packing.” While I trimmed the roses in the garden, I allowed her to keep talking... until she said the one thing that would destroy everything for her.
“You should start packing immediately, because after they read the will tomorrow, this house will belong to us.”
Tabitha’s voice floated across the white rose bushes before I even raised my head. Her designer heels sank into the moist soil of my father’s garden as though she were strutting down a runway instead of walking through the place where he had poured so much of his life. I continued cutting away the dead stems with my pruning shears, carefully and slowly, exactly as he had taught me when I was a child: keep your hand firm, but never damage the plant.
He had planted those roses the day I married Calvin. He told me white represented new beginnings.
The irony was almost unbearable.
Those bushes had survived long enough to witness the collapse of my fifteen-year marriage and the day my ex-husband abandoned me for his assistant—the same woman now standing before me, covered in costly perfume and self-importance.
“Good morning, Tabitha,” I said, barely acknowledging her.
She gave me the sugary, false smile she always wore when she wanted to insult someone while pretending to be polite.
“Everett’s will is being read tomorrow. Calvin and I thought it would be best to have a mature conversation before the situation becomes uncomfortable.”
I brushed the dirt from my hands onto my gardening apron and rose to my feet. Even in those absurd heels, she was still shorter than I was.
“There’s nothing for us to talk about. This house belonged to my father.”
“Your father’s estate,” she corrected, enjoying the sound of every word. “And Calvin was practically a son to him for years. The very least you can do is allow us to receive what we’re entitled to.”
I became sharply aware of the pruning shears resting in my hand.
“You mean the Calvin who betrayed his wife with his secretary?” I asked softly. “That ‘son’?”
“Oh, please. That happened ages ago,” she replied, flicking her hand as though it meant nothing. “Everett forgave him. They continued meeting at the club every Sunday right up until the end.”
Right up until the end.
Only three weeks had passed since we laid my father to rest. Eight months earlier, doctors had diagnosed him with pancreatic cancer, and everything after that had moved unbearably fast. There had never been enough time to say everything I needed to say or to ask why, in his final months, my brother Kyle had pulled away from me and become closer to Calvin than to his own sister.
“My father didn’t leave Calvin a thing,” I said. “He had his faults, but he was never stupid.”
For one brief second, Tabitha’s smile slipped.
“We’ll find out tomorrow. Kyle seems to disagree.”
A cold sensation traveled down my back.
“You’ve spoken with my brother?”
She moved nearer and lowered her voice.
“Let’s just say he helped me understand what was going through your father’s mind during those last few months.”
My grip tightened around the shears until pain pressed into my fingers.
My father had always told me, “Handle roses with firmness, daughter, but never with cruelty. Even their thorns serve a reason.”
“Leave my house, Tabitha,” I said. “Before I stop being polite.”
She gave a humorless laugh.
“Your house? That’s charming. This property is worth a tremendous amount of money, Paige. Did you honestly believe you would get to keep all of it? Living here like royalty while everyone else stood by and watched?”
“My father constructed this house one brick at a time. He planted each tree with his own hands. This has nothing to do with money. It’s what he left behind.”
“Open your eyes. Everything comes down to money,” she snapped. “Tomorrow, you’re going to discover that for yourself.”
She turned toward the gate, but before she left the garden, she struck one final time.
“Oh, and you really should begin packing your belongings. Calvin and I plan to renovate the moment we move in. The first thing we’re doing is tearing out these outdated rose bushes. The entire property needs a more modern appearance.”
The clicking of her heels slowly disappeared along the path.
I stared at the white blossoms and noticed several petals crushed beneath my soil-stained fingers.
I took out my phone and made a call without hesitation.
“Ms. Penelope, it’s Paige,” I said the moment she picked up. “Tabitha came here and threatened me.”
Her voice immediately became serious.
“What were her exact words?”
“She said exactly what we feared she would. Can you come here? There’s something I have to verify before tomorrow.”
“I’m already on my way,” she answered. “And try not to worry, Paige. Your father prepared much more carefully than any of them realize.”
I ended the call.
That was when I saw something hidden beneath one of the rose bushes, wet from the morning dew. I knew my father’s handwriting the second I saw it.
The envelope had my name on it.
May you like
I lifted it with shaking hands, surprised by how heavy it seemed, as though it contained more than a few pages—as if it held the final move in a game no one else had ever realized my father was playing.
In that instant, I understood that Tabitha had revealed far too much... and she had probably just made the greatest mistake of her life.
