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Chapter 1 - THE ENVELOPE BENEATH THE WHITE ROSES

“You’d better start packing now, because once they read the will tomorrow, this house will be ours.”

Tabitha’s voice carried over the white rose bushes before I even looked up.

Her expensive heels sank into the damp soil of my father’s garden as if she were walking a runway instead of the place where he had devoted so much of his life.

I kept trimming the dead branches with my pruning shears.

Slowly.

Just as Dad had taught me when I was a little girl.

A steady hand.

Never cutting deeper than necessary.

Never hurting the plant simply because the thorns had drawn blood.

He planted those roses on the day I married Calvin.

He said white symbolized fresh beginnings.

How ironic.

The bushes were still standing after witnessing the end of my fifteen-year marriage and the day my husband left me for his assistant—the very woman now standing in front of me, wrapped in expensive perfume and arrogance.

“Good morning, Tabitha,” I said without giving her much attention.

She smiled with the false sweetness she always used when she wanted to humiliate someone politely.

“Tomorrow they’ll read Everett’s will. Calvin and I thought it would be better to have a civilized conversation before things become awkward.”

I wiped my hands on my gardening apron and stood.

Even with her ridiculous heels, I was taller.

“There’s nothing to discuss. This was my father’s home.”

“Your father’s estate,” she corrected, savoring every word. “And Calvin was like a son to him for many years. The least you could do is let us receive what we deserve.”

I felt the weight of the pruning shears in my hand.

“You mean the same Calvin who cheated on his wife with his secretary?”

I tilted my head.

“That son?”

“Oh, please. That’s ancient history.”

She waved one manicured hand dismissively.

“Everett forgave him. They continued going to the club every Sunday until the very end.”

The very end.

Only three weeks had passed since we buried my father.

Eight months earlier, he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

Everything happened too quickly.

I never had enough time to tell him everything I wanted to say.

Or to ask why, during his final months, my younger brother Kyle had drifted away from me and grown closer to Calvin than to his own family.

“My father didn’t leave Calvin anything,” I said. “He had flaws, but he wasn’t a fool.”

For a brief moment, Tabitha’s smile faltered.

“We’ll see tomorrow.”

She stepped closer.

“Kyle doesn’t think so.”

A chill moved through me.

“You’ve been speaking with my brother?”

“Let’s just say he helped me understand your father’s state of mind during his final months.”

My fingers tightened around the shears.

Dad always said:

Treat roses firmly, daughter, but never cruelly. Even thorns have a purpose.

“Get out of my house, Tabitha.”

My voice remained quiet.

“Before I forget my manners.”

She laughed.

“Your house? That’s adorable.”

Her eyes swept toward the wide brick terrace, the old stone fountain, and the east wing built by my grandfather.

“This property is worth a fortune, Paige. Did you honestly believe you would keep all of it? Living here like a queen while everyone else watched?”

“My father built this house brick by brick.”

“He planted every tree with his own hands.”

“This isn’t only real estate. It’s his legacy.”

“Wake up. Everything is about money.”

She turned toward the garden gate.

Before leaving, she delivered one final blow.

“You should start packing. Calvin and I are remodeling as soon as we move in.”

She pointed toward the roses.

“We’re beginning by ripping out these old-fashioned bushes. The entire place needs to look more modern.”

The sound of her heels faded along the stone path.

I looked down.

Several white petals had been crushed beneath my dirt-covered hand.

I pulled out my phone.

“Ms. Penelope, it’s me,” I said when my father’s attorney answered. “Tabitha came here to threaten me.”

Her voice changed immediately.

“What exactly did she say?”

“Everything we feared. She mentioned Calvin receiving the house. She also said Kyle helped her understand Dad’s state of mind.”

A pause followed.

“Do not confront your brother.”

“Can you come over?”

“I’m already leaving the office.”

“There’s something I need to check before tomorrow.”

“And Paige?”

“Yes?”

“Do not worry about the house. Your father planned much farther ahead than any of them.”

I ended the call.

That was when I noticed something beneath the rose bushes.

A cream envelope.

Damp from morning dew.

Partly covered by mulch.

My name appeared across the front in my father’s unmistakable handwriting.

For Paige—when someone threatens the roses.

My hands began trembling.

Dad had hidden it there deliberately.

Not recently.

The paper had been wrapped in clear protective film, sealed against moisture.

He had expected someone to say exactly what Tabitha had said.

I opened it carefully.

Inside was a short letter.

Paige,

If you are reading this, Calvin or Tabitha has revealed more than they intended.

Do not trust the first version of my will.

Do not sign anything Kyle gives you.

Call Penelope and ask her about the Rose Covenant.

Then check the blue ledger in the cellar wall.

I am sorry I waited so long to tell you what they did.

Your father.

My breathing changed.

The first version of his will?

The Rose Covenant?

The blue ledger?

I read the final sentence again.

I am sorry I waited so long to tell you what they did.

Not what Calvin did.

What they did.

The garden gate opened.

I turned sharply.

Kyle stood there.

My brother wore a tan jacket and carried a leather document case.

He looked toward the envelope in my hands.

His face lost color.

“What did you find?”

I folded the letter.

“Something Dad left me.”

Kyle forced a smile.

“Dad left papers everywhere toward the end. He was heavily medicated.”

“Tabitha said you spoke to her about his state of mind.”

His expression tightened.

“She came to me because Calvin is worried about tomorrow.”

“Why would Calvin be worried?”

“Because you’ve been living here and acting like the estate is already yours.”

“I was Dad’s primary caregiver.”

“You also controlled access to him.”

I stared at Kyle.

“That is a lie.”

“Is it?”

“You lived two states away.”

“You visited four times during his illness.”

“I called.”

“You called Calvin.”

Kyle looked toward the house.

“I don’t want to fight.”

“Then tell me why my ex-husband believes he will inherit our father’s home.”

“Maybe because Dad promised it.”

“He did not.”

“You don’t know everything they discussed.”

“What did Dad promise you?”

The question struck harder than I expected.

Kyle’s gaze shifted.

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because you came here carrying papers the day before the will reading.”

He lowered the document case.

“These are preliminary estate forms.”

“Prepared by whom?”

“Calvin’s attorney.”

I laughed once.

Coldly.

“My ex-husband’s attorney prepared papers for my father’s estate?”

“He represents several family interests.”

“Not mine.”

“Paige, you are making this harder than necessary.”

He stepped toward me.

“Tomorrow may be emotional.”

“If Dad divided the property in a way you dislike, you need to accept it.”

I thought of the letter.

Do not sign anything Kyle gives you.

“What do you want me to sign?”

“Nothing today.”

“Then open the case.”

His face hardened.

“No.”

“Open it.”

“You’re acting paranoid.”

“Dad warned me not to trust papers from you.”

The lie came out partly.

I wanted to see his reaction.

It was immediate.

Fear.

Then anger.

“He was confused.”

“You haven’t even seen the letter.”

Kyle’s lips parted.

I continued.

“You knew he wrote something.”

He looked toward the garden gate.

Ready to leave.

I stepped between him and the path.

“What did you do?”

“Move, Paige.”

“What did you and Calvin do?”

“Nothing.”

The front door opened.

Penelope Shaw walked onto the terrace carrying a hard-sided legal case.

She was seventy-one, silver-haired, and barely five feet tall.

Yet when Kyle saw her, he stepped backward.

“Ms. Shaw.”

“Kyle.”

Her eyes settled on the leather case.

“What documents are you carrying?”

“Private family papers.”

“No estate paper involving Everett Marlowe is private from his executor.”

Kyle gripped the handle.

Penelope held out her hand.

“Give them to me.”

“You have no authority until probate begins.”

She smiled slightly.

“That would be true if tomorrow’s meeting were an ordinary will reading.”

His expression changed.

“What does that mean?”

“It means your father anticipated an attempt to replace his final documents.”

Kyle went pale.

Penelope turned toward me.

“Did you find the envelope?”

I handed it to her.

She read the letter.

Then looked toward the white roses.

“So Tabitha threatened them.”

“Yes.”

Penelope closed her case.

“Then the Rose Covenant is active.”

Kyle took another step back.

“There is no Rose Covenant.”

Penelope looked directly at him.

“You were not supposed to know that name.”

Silence fell over the garden.

Kyle realized his mistake.

He had denied knowledge of something no one had explained.

Penelope’s expression became colder.

“Your father was right.”

Kyle turned and ran toward the gate.

I started after him.

Penelope stopped me.

“Let him go.”

“He has documents.”

“And now we know he has them.”

She removed her phone and called someone.

“Mr. Vale, Kyle Marlowe just left the property carrying the suspected replacement documents.”

She listened.

“Yes. Begin surveillance.”

I stared at her.

“Who is Mr. Vale?”

“A forensic investigator your father hired six months ago.”

“What replacement documents?”

Penelope turned toward me.

“Your brother, Calvin, and Tabitha believe they altered your father’s estate plan.”

“Did they?”

“They altered something.”

“But not what they think.”

She looked toward the house.

“The real will has not been inside this property for months.”

I thought of Dad’s letter.

“The blue ledger?”

“That contains the reason Calvin wants the house.”

“What reason?”

Penelope’s eyes darkened.

“Your ex-husband did not maintain a friendship with your father after the divorce.”

“He was searching for evidence.”

“Evidence of what?”

“That fifteen years ago, while you were still married, Calvin used your father’s company to hide money stolen from clients.”

The garden seemed to tilt beneath me.

“How much money?”

“At least $11 million.”

May you like

“And your brother may have helped him move it.”

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