“Come home,” I begged. “You’re safe with me.”

“It’ll get better,” she insisted. “Now that the baby’s coming… everything will change.”

I wanted to believe her.

I really did.

Back in the church, Ethan dropped into the front pew like he owned the place. He wrapped his arm around the woman in red and even chuckled when the priest spoke about “eternal love.”

I felt sick.

That’s when I noticed someone standing from the side aisle—Michael Reeves, Emily’s attorney.

I barely knew him. Quiet, serious—the kind of man whose silence carried weight.

He stepped forward holding a sealed envelope like it mattered.

Because it did.

When he reached the front, he cleared his throat.

“Before the burial,” he said firmly, “I am required to carry out a direct legal instruction from the deceased. Her will will be read… now.”

A ripple moved through the church.

Ethan scoffed.

“A will? My wife didn’t have anything,” he said confidently.

Michael looked at him—not with anger, but with certainty.

“I’ll begin with the primary beneficiary.”

Then he said my name.

“Margaret Carter, mother of the deceased.”

My knees nearly gave out. I grabbed the pew to steady myself.

Even in death… my daughter was still protecting me.