Chapter 2

The room went dead silent.

Grandma's face filled the screen — warm, sharp-eyed, and unmistakably fierce. Even in a pre-recorded video, Margaret Chen commanded every inch of the room.

"I recorded this six months before my death," she continued, "because I knew exactly what would happen after I was gone. Some of you are here because you loved me. Most of you are here because you want my money."

A few uncomfortable coughs rippled through the room.

Nathan shifted in his seat. Karina's smile faltered.

"So, I've designed this will reading a little differently. My estate will be distributed based on what you deserve — and I will be the one to decide what that is. Mr. Donovan will guide the process. Each of you will receive an envelope. Inside is what I've left you. But the envelopes will only be opened one at a time, in the order I've chosen."

She paused, and her gaze softened.

"Elise, sweetheart. I know you're sitting there trying not to cry. I know you think you're alone now. But you're not. Grandma's got one last fight left in her."

My vision blurred. I pressed my fist against my mouth to hold back a sob.

Then Grandma's expression hardened. "Let's begin."

The screen froze on her face, and Mr. Donovan stepped forward holding a tray of numbered envelopes.

"As per Mrs. Chen's instructions, the first envelope goes to… Vivian Harrison."

Nathan's mother straightened up, smoothing her designer jacket. She practically snatched the envelope from Mr. Donovan's hand.

"About time," she muttered. "Margaret always said she appreciated how I welcomed Elise into the family."

She tore it open. Inside was a single card with a QR code. Mr. Donovan scanned it, and the big screen lit up again.

This time, it wasn't Grandma's face.

It was security camera footage.

The timestamp read fourteen months ago. The location: Grandma's private hospital room, three days after her first stroke.

In the footage, Vivian walked into the room — not to visit Grandma, but to rifle through her bedside drawer. She pulled out a file labeled **"Estate Planning — Draft."**

Vivian's face on the footage was calculating, cold. She photographed every single page with her phone, then carefully put the file back.

Then she made a call. The audio was crystal clear.

*"Richard, I've got the draft. She's leaving almost everything to Elise. We need to move faster. Tell Nathan to speed up the marriage counseling act — make Elise trust him completely before the old woman changes anything."*

The room erupted.

"Oh my god—"

"She was spying on a dying woman?!"

Vivian's face drained of color. "That's — that's taken out of context! I was just—"

"There's more," Mr. Donovan said flatly.

The footage continued. Vivian turned back to Grandma's sleeping form and muttered, barely above a whisper, "Hurry up and die already, you stubborn old hag. You've held onto this money long enough."

Gasps filled the room.

I stared at the screen, my blood running cold. Grandma had been lying right there. Helpless. And this woman wished her dead to her face.

Vivian stood up, shaking. "This is doctored! Margaret was a paranoid old woman who—"

"Sit down, Mrs. Harrison," Mr. Donovan said, his voice like a blade. "Or I will have security remove you."

She sat.

On the screen, Grandma's video resumed. She smiled — but it was the kind of smile that made powerful men nervous.

"Vivian, dear. You wanted to know what I left you? Here it is."

A document appeared on screen.

"I've left you a bill. For the private investigator I hired to follow you for the past two years. Don't worry — it's only forty-seven thousand dollars. Consider it my parting gift."

Vivian's mouth fell open.

"Oh, and one more thing." Grandma's eyes twinkled. "I also forwarded your phone records to the IRS. Those offshore accounts you thought no one knew about? Surprise."

The hall buzzed with whispered shock. Nathan grabbed his mother's arm, hissing at her to stay calm. Richard looked like he'd swallowed glass.

Mr. Donovan held up the next envelope.

"Envelope number two goes to… Richard Harrison."

Richard didn't move.

"Mr. Harrison," Mr. Donovan repeated. "Your envelope."

Slowly, Richard reached for it — and I saw something I'd never seen on his face before.