The end had come far too quickly for all of us.
It had only been three weeks since we laid my father to rest after a brutal eight-month battle with cancer. I didn’t 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.
“My father didn’t leave Simon a single cent,” I stated firmly, knowing that my dad was many things, but he was never a fool.
For a brief moment, the confident smile on Misty’s face began to falter.
“We will see about that tomorrow, especially since Jesse doesn’t seem to agree with your assessment.”
A sudden chill ran down my spine at the mention of my brother’s involvement.
“Have you been speaking with my brother behind my back?”
She took a step closer to me and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial hiss.
“Let’s just say he has helped me understand your father’s true mental state during those final months.”
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.
“Get off my property, Misty,” I told her, “before I forget how to be polite to a guest.”
She let out a short, dry chuckle that grated on my nerves.
“Your 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.”
