Chapter 2

Melvin was at my door almost instantly. He was my personal lawyer and one of the rare people I truly trusted.

We first crossed paths when my business was on the brink.

Back then, I'd been stabbed in the back by my partner, drowning in lawsuits, and teetering on the edge of bankruptcy.

It was Melvin who helped me piece things back together.

I met up with him at a café near the office.

I didn't want Richard to find out.

Melvin was in his fifties, his hair was going gray, but he still looked sharp and full of energy.

He froze for a moment when he saw me. "Mrs. Evans, you don't look so good," he said.

I waved my hand. "Have a seat, Melvin," I said.

I slid a hospital diagnosis report across the table to him.

He picked it up. The more he read, the tighter his brow furrowed.

Finally, he set the report down and let out a long sigh. "How could this happen? Don't worry, medicine's advanced these days. There are top experts in Mireilia. I can get you connected right now."

I cut him off. "No need. I know my own body. My health isn't why I asked you here."

I pulled out another folder from my bag that my assistant had sent it over.

It had everything on Richard, Grace, and Anna. All the documents, photos, videos, and bank transfers formed a thick stack.

I slid it across the table to him. "Take a look at this first," I said.

Melvin looked puzzled, but he still grabbed the stack of documents and started reading through them carefully.

His face went from confusion, to shock, and then to anger.

Finally, he brought his hand down hard on the table. Coffee spilled out of his cup.

"That bastard!" Melvin spat, his voice low but seething with anger. "Mrs. Evans, look at what you've put yourself through for this company and for this family. How dare Richard do this to you?"

Melvin had been by my side through every step of the way. He understood how hard things had been for me.

I shook my head, motioning for him to calm down. "There's no point in talking about it now. Melvin, the reason I called you here is to draft a will," I said.

Melvin's face grew serious. "Mrs. Evans," he began.

"Let me finish," I said, looking at him and uttering every world clearly. "After I die, set up a trust fund with all my shares, properties, cash, and every asset under my name.

"The sole beneficiary of the fund will be my grandson or granddaughter."

Melvin froze. He thought he had misheard.

"Your grandson or granddaughter?" Melvin said. "Mrs. Evans, you mean—"

I nodded. "That's right. Make sure the first clause of the will is crystal clear: Only the child of my son can inherit everything I own.

"It doesn't matter if they're born in or out of wedlock. If a DNA test proves they're Lucas's kid, he or she is the only heir."

Melvin looked completely floored. He sat there, jaw dropped, speechless for a long moment.

He stared at me, eyes full of shock and disbelief. "But, Mrs. Evans, Lucas has not gotten married. And he—"

He looked like he wanted to say more but bit his tongue. He knew about my son.

Lucas Evans, my only son, was twenty-five this year.

He was nothing like Richard. He was my pride.

He was smart, independent, and has a mind of his own.

After graduating, he didn't join my company.

He chose to pursue his passion for art. He set up his own studio overseas.

I knew what Melvin was about to say, and I knew Lucas wasn't interested in women.

I cut him off. "Melvin, don't worry about whether he's married or anything else. Write it the way I told you."

My voice was calm, but my tone made it clear there was no room for argument.

Melvin looked at me. He'd known me for twenty years. He knew that once I'd made up my mind, nothing could change it.

He was silent for a long time. Finally, he nodded. "Alright. I understand, Mrs. Evans."

It was like something clicked for him. The look in his eyes shifted from shock to pure admiration.

There was a glimmer of barely concealed excitement in his gaze. He looked like a gambler about to make the gamble of the century.

"And one more thing," I continued. "You'll be the executor of my will. After I'm gone, you and your team will oversee the trust fund until my heir reaches twenty-five.

"Each year, you're entitled to collect five percent of the fund's annual growth as your management fee."

Melvin sucked in a sharp breath.

My net worth was close to 30 billion dollars. Imagine how massive that trust fund would be.

Five percent management fee was an astronomical sum.

That was my way of rewarding him, but it was also my way of shackling him.

He'd have to give it everything he had to protect my fortune.

"Mrs. Evans, that's way too much," Melvin said.

"It's not too much," I replied, meeting his gaze. "I want your word that not a single cent will be touched by anyone until my son and grandson inherit it.

"Especially Richard and that illegitimate daughter of his."

I made sure to spit out the words "illegitimate daughter."

His gaze turned razor-sharp as he adjusted his glasses. "I understand. Mrs. Evans, you have my word. As long as I'm alive, no one will find a loophole."

I smiled. "I trust you."

I went over a few more details like how to make sure the company shares got handed over smoothly after I was gone and how to keep Richard from trying to take over.

We talked the whole afternoon. Everything was clearly arranged.

When I walked out of the café, night had fallen.

I looked up at the city's neon lights. Finally, I felt like the weight on my chest had finally lifted.

Richard, Grace, Anna, you want my money? Not in your wildest dreams.

When I got home, Richard was waiting anxiously in the living room.

As soon as he saw me, he rushed over. "Where have you been? Why weren't you picking up your phone? I was freaking out."

I looked at him. "I met up with a few friends."

He leaned in, trying to catch a whiff of alcohol on me.

"Have you been drinking? Didn't the doctor tell you to get some rest?" he asked.

He launched into his usual lecture again.

I was exhausted, and honestly, I couldn't keep pretending with him anymore.

I pushed him away. "I'm tired. I want to sleep."

I walked straight upstairs.

Richard trailed after me. "Victoria, let's talk. Why are you acting like this? You've been off ever since we left the hospital."

I paused and turned back to face him.

"What do you want me to do? Do you want me to grin and announce I'm dying?" I asked.

I didn't raise my voice, but in the empty stairwell, my words rang out clearly.

Richard froze, all the color drained from his face. His lips trembled.

"Wh-what did you say?" he stammered.

I looked him straight in the eye. "I said I have cancer. It's terminal. I've got at most six months left."

Richard swayed on his feet.

He grabbed the stair railing to steady himself.

His tears spilled out all at once.

"No, that's not possible. How how could this happen?" he stammered.

He moved toward me, one step at a time, and reached out, wanting to hold me.

I took a step back and dodged.

His hand froze awkwardly in midair.

I looked at his face, which was so full of grief, and watched the tears roll down his cheeks.

Suddenly, it all felt ridiculous.

Was he really mourning for me? Or was he upset that his chance at living large was put on pause?

Maybe he was already plotting in his head that once I was gone, he could finally bring Grace and Anna into this house justifiably.

All my 30 billion dollars will belong to him, Grace, and Anna.

He looked at me, his voice choked with emotion. "Victoria, don't be afraid. I'll take you to Mireilia and find the best doctors. We can beat this together. I can't live without you."

He sounded so genuine that I almost believed him.

I looked at him and said softly, "Alright."