“Your mother has passed, and crying won’t change that—so wipe your face, prepare dinner, and don’t look like a mourning child when my guests show up,” my husband told me only two hours after I returned

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.

The atmosphere in the room had changed 180°. The guests, who had previously looked down on me, now bowed their heads in fear. They realized their jobs could depend on my mood, but I wasn’t interested in them. My focus was solely on the two traitors before me, Mark and Jessica. I took a deep breath, inhaling the air of freedom mixed with the scent of grief. It was time to clean the trash out of my life. Just as I had cleaned the trash from their party earlier, Mr. Harrison signaled his secretary again. The secretary took out a tablet and turned it on.

“In addition to the will,” Mr. Harrison said, looking alternately at Jessica and Mark, “our internal audit team has found some suspicious transactions made by Mr. Evans during his tenure. And interestingly, that spending pattern coincides with the lavish lifestyle of one employee.” Mr. Harrison stared at Jessica. “Miss Davis, perhaps you can explain how you acquired designer handbags and expensive jewelry on a normal employee’s salary, because our data shows that the company funds embezzled by Mr. Evans flowed into the items you are wearing right now.” Mark’s eyes widened. He had forgotten about the petty embezzlement he had committed to please Jessica, thinking no one would check the details of operating expenses.

But now, under the president’s direct audit, all his wrongdoings came to light. Jessica’s face transformed into a mask of pure terror. She was trembling violently. The expensive handbag she was holding fell to the floor. The secret of her affair and her corruption was exposed all at once. It was no longer about a lost inheritance, but a possible prison sentence. The atmosphere in the living room, which had been deathly silent, transformed into a heated courtroom. Mr. Harrison’s secretary held up the tablet, slowly turning it so everyone could see the incriminating evidence on the screen. Mark’s eyes widened as if they were about to pop out of their sockets.