Chapter 8

My heart dropped into my stomach.

Julian popped the velvet box open. He pulled out a folded piece of heavy, watermarked parchment. The original will.

“You really thought you could outsmart me?” Julian sneered, waving the document. “My uncles are downstairs right now, planning to tear me apart. But when I show them this? When I show them that the old man was insane enough to leave everything to a stranger? They’ll unite behind me. We’ll destroy you in court.”

“Julian, stop,” I said, stepping into the room. “It’s over.”

“It’s just beginning,” he said, holding the paper over a silver decorative lighter on the dresser. “Or maybe I’ll just burn it. Without the original will to back up your transfer documents, the trust defaults to the family.”

He flicked the lighter. A small flame danced in the air.

“Do it,” a voice said from the doorway.

Julian and I both spun around.

Standing there, supported by two nurses and leaning heavily on a cane, was Nonna Adelaide.

“Grandmother,” Julian breathed, lowering the lighter slightly. “You shouldn’t be out of the hospital.”

“I told them I had a mess to clean up,” she said, her voice weak but laced with steel. She slowly walked into the room, her eyes fixed on her grandson. “Burn it, Julian. Burn your grandfather’s last request.”

Julian swallowed hard. “He betrayed us, Nonna.”

“He saved us,” she corrected. “He saved us from you. From your greed. From your cruelty. He knew what kind of man you were.”

“I am a Moretti!”

“You are a coward!” Adelaide shouted, the effort making her cough violently. “You let an innocent man die on the road twelve years ago!”

Julian froze. “What? No, I wasn’t there.”

Adelaide’s eyes filled with tears. She looked at me. “Evelyn, my dear. I am so sorry. My husband didn’t hit your father.”

The room went completely silent.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Adelaide pointed a shaking finger at Julian. “He was driving. Julian was driving the car that night. He was drunk. My husband took the blame to protect him. He forced Julian to marry you to keep you close, to make sure you were cared for, because Julian ruined your life.”

I stared at Julian. The room started to spin.

The man I had slept next to for seven years. The man I had loved.

He was the one who left my father to die.

Julian’s face crumbled. The arrogant facade completely shattered. “It was an accident,” he whispered, dropping the lighter. “Evie, I swear to God, I didn’t see him.”

I felt a cold, absolute calm wash over me. The grief and shock crystallized into something hard and unbreakable.

I walked across the room, grabbed the velvet ring box from his hand, and pulled the original will from his trembling fingers.

“Marcus,” I called out.

The lawyer stepped into the room.

“Call the police,” I said, not taking my eyes off Julian. “Tell them we have a confession in a twelve-year-old hit-and-run.”

Julian fell to his knees. “Evelyn, please. I’m your husband.”

I looked down at him.

“I’m a widow,” I said coldly. “As far as I’m concerned, my husband died the day I met him.”

By noon, Julian was in handcuffs, escorted out of the estate in front of his entire, humiliated family. The uncles tried to protest, but when Marcus presented the legal documents and the original will, they fell silent.

Evelyn Miller owned them.

I stood on the grand staircase, Adelaide leaning gently against my arm. The house was finally quiet. The mistress was gone. The lying husband was gone.

“What now, child?” Adelaide asked softly.

I looked down at my father’s silver pocket watch in my hand.

“Now,” I said, “we clean house.”