My husband brought his mistress to my funeral and stood beside my open casket as if my death had finally set him free
. Then she leaned close to my face, smiled, and whispered something cruel enough to make my husband smirk, but neither of them noticed the tiny movement beneath the white flowers covering my hand.
If Grant had looked closer, everything would've ended right there.
But my husband had never been very good at looking at me.
Not really.
I lay beneath the cathedral lights in the ivory dress my sister Jenna had chosen, surrounded by white lilies and hundreds of people convinced they were saying goodbye to Claire Whitmore.
Grant stood beside my coffin.
Tall. Handsome. Immaculate black suit.
Not a tear in his eyes.
And hanging from his arm was Tessa Lane.
His mistress.
The nurse who had smiled at me during chemotherapy while secretly sleeping with my husband.
Tessa wore an expensive cream silk gown to my funeral.
Cream.
I almost admired the cruelty of it.
She leaned over the coffin until her perfume reached me.
Then came her whisper.
“You should've let him go when you still had some dignity.”
Grant heard her.
His mouth curled into the smallest smile.
There it was.
The man I'd loved for eleven years.
The man who had held my hand when the doctors first said cancer.
The man who eventually started missing treatments because of “business meetings.”
Except those meetings had a name.
Tessa.
What Grant didn't know was that I'd discovered them eight weeks earlier.
What Tessa didn't know was that I'd discovered something worse.
Much worse.
The day Dr. Mei Lin told me my treatment had failed, I didn't call Grant.
I called Jenna.
Then my attorney, David Brenner.
Then a private investigator.
And finally, I asked Dr. Lin a question that changed everything.
“If I disappear,” I whispered, “how long before Grant starts reaching for my money?”
She stared at me.
I already knew the answer.
Not long.
So while Grant continued lying, I began preparing.
Bank records.
Hotel receipts.
Messages.
Insurance documents.
Every secret he thought I'd been too sick to notice.
Back inside the cathedral, Tessa straightened and slipped her hand through my husband's arm.
“Brenner's office after this?” she murmured.
Grant nodded.
“My inheritance should be settled today.”
My inheritance.
If I could've laughed, I would have.
Because there was one thing Grant still didn't understand.
The funeral wasn't the end of my plan.
It was part of it.
And beneath the flowers resting over my supposedly lifeless hand, my index finger moved again.
This time, Jenna saw it.
She didn't scream.
She simply looked at Grant...
May you like
and smiled.
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