The morning dew still clung to the roses when I heard the crunch of expensive heels on my garden path. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Only one person would dare to wear Louboutins to stomp through my father’s prized garden.

“Madeline?” Her voice dripped with fake sweetness. “Still playing in the dirt, I see.”

I continued pruning my father’s white roses—the ones he’d planted for my wedding day. The wedding that had ended in divorce papers and my ex-husband running off with the woman now standing behind me. “Hello, Haley.”

“You know why I’m here.” She moved closer, her shadow falling across the flower bed. “The reading of the will is tomorrow, and Holden and I think it’s best if we discuss things… civilly.”

I finally turned around, wiping my soil-covered hands on my gardening apron. “There’s nothing to discuss. This is my father’s house.”

“His estate, was,” Haley corrected, her perfectly painted red lips curling into a smirk. “And since Holden was like a son to Miles for fifteen years, we believe we’re entitled to our fair share.”

The pruning shears in my hand suddenly felt heavier. “The same Holden who cheated on his daughter with his secretary? That Holden?”

“Ancient history,” Haley waved her manicured hand dismissively. “Miles forgave him. They still played golf every Sunday until…” She paused for dramatic effect. “Well, you know.”

My father’s death was still raw, a wound that hadn’t even begun to scab over. He’d been gone just two weeks, and here was this woman, this vulture, circling what she thought was easy prey.

“My father wouldn’t have left Holden anything,” I said firmly, standing up to my full height. “He was many things, but he wasn’t stupid.”

Haley’s fake smile faltered. “We’ll see about that. Your brother, Isaiah, seems to think differently.”

The mention of my brother sent a chill down my spine. We hadn’t spoken since Dad’s funeral, where he’d spent more time consoling Holden than his own sister. “You’ve spoken to Isaiah?”

“Oh, honey,” Haley stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “We’ve done more than speak. He’s been very… helpful.”

I gripped the pruning shears tighter, remembering Dad’s words from years ago: The roses need a firm hand, Maddie, but never a cruel one. Even the sharpest thorns serve a purpose.

“Get off my property, Haley,” I said quietly. “Before I forget my manners.”

She laughed, the sound like breaking glass. “Your property? That’s cute. This house is worth millions, Madeline. Did you really think you’d get to keep it all to yourself? Playing house in your daddy’s mansion while the rest of us get nothing?”

“My father built this house brick by brick,” I said, my voice steady despite the rage building inside me. “He planted every tree, designed every room. This isn’t about money. This is about legacy.”

“Legacy?” Haley snorted. “Wake up, Madeline. Everything is about money. And tomorrow, when that will is read, you’re going to learn that the hard way.” She turned to leave but paused at the garden gate. “Oh, and you might want to start packing. Holden and I will need at least a month to renovate before we move in.”

As her heels clicked down the path, I looked down at the roses, their white petals now spotted with soil where my trembling hands had crushed them. Dad had always said white roses represented new beginnings, but all I could see was red.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the one person I knew would understand. “Aaliyah? It’s me. Haley just paid me a visit. Yeah, she’s exactly as bad as we thought. Can you come over? There’s something about the will I need to discuss with you.”

My best friend’s voice was firm and reassuring. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Don’t worry, Madeline. Your father was smarter than they know.”

As I ended the call, I noticed a small envelope poking out from beneath one of the rose bushes, its corner damp with dew. The handwriting on it was unmistakably my father’s, and it was addressed to me. I picked it up with shaking hands, wondering how long it had been waiting there, hidden among the thorns. The paper felt heavy, like it carried more than just words.

“Well, Dad,” I whispered, turning the envelope over in my hands. “Looks like you left me one last surprise.”

Aaliyah arrived exactly when she promised, her legal briefcase in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “I figured we might need this,” she said, holding up the wine as she walked into Dad’s study.

I was still holding the unopened envelope, perched on the edge of my father’s leather chair. The room smelled of his pipe tobacco and old books, a scent I wasn’t ready to lose to Haley’s promised renovations.

“You haven’t opened it yet?” Aaliyah nodded at the envelope, setting her briefcase down.

“I wanted to wait for you,” I said. “After what Haley said about Isaiah helping them…”

“Open it,” Aaliyah insisted, pouring two generous glasses of wine. “Your father was very specific about certain things being revealed at certain times.”

My head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

She handed me a glass. “Open the letter, Madeline.”

With trembling fingers, I broke the seal. Inside was a single sheet of paper and a small, ornate key.

“Dear Maddie,” I read aloud, my father’s voice echoing in my head. “If you’re reading this, then someone has already made a move on the estate. Knowing human nature as I do, I’m guessing it’s Haley. She always did remind me of a shark: all teeth and no soul.”

Aaliyah snorted into her wine glass.

“The key enclosed opens the bottom drawer of my desk. Inside, you’ll find everything you need to protect what’s yours. Remember what I taught you about chess: sometimes you have to sacrifice a pawn to protect the queen. Love, Dad.”

I looked up at Aaliyah, who was already moving toward the desk. “You knew about this?”

“I helped him set it up,” she admitted, gesturing for me to use the key. “Your father came to me six months ago, right after his diagnosis. He knew exactly how things would play out.”

The drawer opened with a soft click. Inside was a thick manila envelope and a USB drive.

“Before you look at those,” Aaliyah said, sitting on the edge of the desk, “there’s something you need to know about tomorrow’s will reading. Your father added a codicil three days before he died.”

“A what?”

“A modification to the will. And trust me, it’s going to change everything.”

I spread the contents of the manila envelope across the desk. Photos spilled out, dozens of them: Haley meeting with someone in a dark parking lot; Holden entering a lawyer’s office that wasn’t Aaliyah’s; bank statements; email printouts.

“Dad had them investigated?”

“Better,” Aaliyah’s smile was sharp. “He had them followed. That USB drive contains video footage of Haley attempting to bribe your father’s nurse for information about his will, two days before he died.”

My hands shook as I picked up one of the photos. “Is that… Isaiah meeting with Haley?”

“Three weeks before your father’s death,” Aaliyah confirmed. “But look at his face in the next photo.” The second photo showed my brother leaving the meeting, his expression twisted with disgust. He was holding what looked like a check.

“He kept the check as evidence,” Aaliyah explained. “Brought it straight to your father. That’s when Miles knew he had to act fast.”