I wore a simple ivory dress Arthur’s tailor had rushed overnight.
Noah stood beside me in a navy suit, grinning like he’d won a prize. He had no idea I’d only agreed to this to save his life.
The doctor said he could attend the wedding.
Arthur’s children glared daggers at me throughout the ceremony and left as soon as possible.
That night, Arthur led me to his office and closed the door.
“The doctors already have their money. Now you can finally learn what you really signed up for,” he said.
My stomach dropped to the floor as Arthur slid a thick folder across the polished desk.
“Open it,” he said quietly.
Arthur led me to his office and closed the door.
My hands trembled as I lifted the cover.
The folder was full of legal documents. On the top page, my name was printed in bold black letters beside Eleanor’s.
“You are now her legal guardian,” Arthur said. “And the executor of my entire estate. I’ve already updated my will to ensure you will get the lion’s share.”
I stared at him, my breath caught in my throat. “Why would you do this?”
“Because I know what my children are up to, and I won’t let them get away with it.”
The folder was full of legal documents.
“I know they’ve been arguing about their inheritance…” I said softly.
Arthur nodded. “They’re dividing my estate among themselves like I’m already gone. But it goes deeper than that. Vivien wants to send Eleanor to the cheapest state facility she can find. I overheard her calling my sister ‘a burden draining the inheritance.'”
I pressed a hand to my mouth.
“My children are waiting for me to die so they can profit from it and toss Eleanor out,” he continued. “But you don’t think that way. You—”
The door slammed open behind me.
“It goes deeper than that.”
Vivien stormed in, two men in dark suits at her heels, briefcases swinging.
“Vivien, what are you—” Arthur said.
She pointed at me. “You gold digger! I know what you’re up to, and I won’t let you manipulate my father into signing his fortune away. My lawyers have already drafted a petition. Elder abuse. Undue influence.”
One of the suited men stepped forward, holding out papers. “You’ll want to read these carefully.”
“And there’s more,” Vivien said, smiling now. “I’ve already spoken with a friend at social services. A woman who marries a dying millionaire for money? That raises serious questions about her child’s welfare.”
“You gold digger! I know what you’re up to.”
“Don’t you dare touch my son!”
“Then disappear quietly. Or I’ll have your brat taken before the week is out.”
“Vivien, stop this,” Arthur said, his voice cracking.
“You stop, Father. You’ve embarrassed this family enough.”
“I said stop—”
Arthur’s hand flew to his chest. His face went pale, then gray. He stumbled forward against the desk.
“Don’t you dare touch my son!”
He collapsed onto the carpet.
“Someone call an ambulance!” I screamed, dropping to my knees beside him. “Arthur, stay with me. Please stay with me.”
His lips moved, barely a whisper. “The Bible… Eleanor’s Bible… read it…”
