I opened the journal to the marked page, recognizing Julian’s neat, flowing handwriting:
My dear Nora,
If you are reading this, my heart has finally found its peace. Forgive me for keeping the truth from you during our short week together. I needed to know that your kindness was genuine, unpolluted by the promise of wealth.
The pull tab on your finger was a placeholder for a promise. The red dress belonged to my late daughter, Lily. The estate is yours. But beware: my son Caleb knows I am gone, and he will come for what he believes is his. Protect Lily’s memory. Protect the shop.
With all my gratitude, Julian.
Before I could process the weight of his words, the heavy wooden door of the hospital room slammed open.
Part 3: The Confrontation
A tall man in a bespoke charcoal suit walked into the room, flanked by a younger corporate associate carrying a briefcase. He had sharp, cold features, but there was an unmistakable resemblance around his eyes that sent a chill through my spine.
It was Caleb.
He scanned the empty hospital bed, then turned his gaze toward Arthur, completely ignoring me at first.
“Pendelton,” Caleb said, his voice cold and transactional. “I got the notification from the nurse’s station. Where are the estate authorization forms? My legal team needs to file the probate claim before the courts close today.”
Arthur didn’t flinch. “You’re too late, Caleb. Your father’s estate is not entering probate.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? He had no living spouse, and I am his sole surviving heir. The downtown commercial lot reverts to me.”
“Your father was married,” Arthur replied calmly, gesturing toward me. “Meet Nora Vance. Julian’s lawful wife.”
Caleb turned his head slowly, assessing me from my worn sneakers to the yellow sweater I was wearing. His eyes landed on the green backpack sitting in my lap, and then on the red silk dress resting over my knees.
For a second, his face went completely pale. The sight of his dead twin sister’s dress seemed to strike a hidden nerve deep within him. But the emotion vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a sneer of pure contempt.
“A hospital volunteer?” Caleb let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Is this a joke? My father was an old, senile man suffering from end-stage heart failure! She took advantage of an incapacitated patient to orchestrate a deathbed marriage scam!”
