“Your mother is gone. Tears won’t bring her back—so wipe your face, make dinner, and don’t look like a grieving child when my guests arrive.” That was what my husband said.

He looked at Mark with a murderous glare. And today, Mr. Evans, before my own eyes and dozens of witnesses, you have proven that you do not meet that exception clause. You have done the exact opposite. You celebrated a party on your wife’s grief. You have insulted me and the deceased. Therefore, I hereby declare that Mrs. Vance’s will comes into full effect. You receive nothing, not a single cent.” Mark screamed. His scream was not of pain, but of rage and desperation. The scream of a loser who had lost everything. He tried to get up and lunge at the table to snatch the documents, shouting that it was unfair, that as a husband he was entitled to his wife’s assets.

But before he could touch the table, two burly bodyguards of Mr. Harrison instantly restrained him, twisting his arms behind his back, and Mark groaned in pain. Mark thrashed like a madman, cursing Mr. Harrison, Mrs. Vance, and even me. His mask had completely fallen. His violent and greedy nature was exposed to everyone. I looked at Mark with an empty gaze. The love I once had for him, a love I gave sincerely despite being hurt often, had now disappeared without a trace. Seeing him go crazy over an inheritance when my mother’s grave was still fresh, I realized he had never loved me. He only loved himself and the comfort I provided.

Mother, you were right. This test has opened my eyes. I walked to the table and stood beside Mr. Harrison. I placed my hand on the will. The paper felt cold, but in it I could feel the warm love of my mother. She had protected me even after her death. She had made sure I would not be used by the wrong man. Mr. Harrison turned to me and nodded respectfully. “Mrs. Evans,” he said. “That form of address made Mark react even more hysterically because now my status was far superior to his. According to your mother’s will, from this moment on, you are the legal owner of these assets.

And as the majority shareholder, you have voting power in the company’s decisions, including the fate of immoral employees. Mr. Harrison stared at Mark and Jessica. That sentence was the signal for the counterattack. Now the power was in my hands. I looked at Jessica, who was now as pale as paper. She realized her career was on the brink of collapse. She tried to smile at me—a smile that was a mixture of fear and flattery, but I turned away.