For three silent days, Zane locked himself in his study, poring over Clara’s medical reports again and again.
Olivia hovered outside the door, wanting to knock but too afraid.
She was young, but she could feel the atmosphere in the house had changed.
And she knew that change had something to do with her mother.
But Olivia refused to believe it. Her award–winning painting was still on the table, waiting for her mother’s praise…
Olivia hugged her knees, sitting on the floor outside the door. Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t dare let them fall.
She could only listen to the sounds of Zane smashing things inside.
Just as Zane tore the last report to shreds, the doorbell rang. It was a woman in a sharp suit.
He glanced through the peephole, intending to ignore it, but the bell rang again, persistently.
Zane yanked the door open, annoyed. The woman before him had a serious expression and held a briefcase.
“Dr. Zane Pierce?”
“My name is Jessica. I was Clara’s attorney. Please gather your relevant documents and bring all family members to the law
office.”
“Clara left a will, and its execution requires everyone to be present.”
The name “Clara” jolted Zane back to reality.
He didn’t waste a second. He rushed to the bathroom to quickly clean himself up.
Then he called Clara’s father, her brother Ethan, and Hailey, who had just been discharged from the hospital. They all hurried
to the law firm.
In her office, Jessica reviewed the items Clara had left her one last time.
In her final moments, Clara had handed her an envelope containing a single, short sentence:
[I’ve prepared everything. After I’m gone, you have my full authority to act on my behalf.]
Inside the envelope were instructions to investigate Hailey thoroughly.
Jessica glanced at the thick file beside her. It was filled with proof of Hailey’s crimes.
She opened her office door. Zane and the others were already waiting.
And the woman supporting Clara’s father and Ethan was Hailey.
Jessica turned and gestured for them to enter.
In the conference room, an elegant woman with an icy composure sat beside the head of the table.
It was Clara’s mother. Her gaze was like a razor, scrutinizing every person in the room.
