I stood beside Marcus’s coffin in the Church of San Lorenzo in Madrid, one hand pressed against my abdomen beneath a black mourning dress.The surgery had been only days earlier, and every breath reminded me that I was still healing. But physical pain was nothing compared to the grief that had settled over me since Marcus’s death.The church was filled with executives, relatives, politicians, and old family friends. White lilies surrounded the casket. Candles flickered beneath stained-glass windows.Everyone looked sad.Not everyone was.Chloe arrived late, just as the service began.She walked down the aisle with perfect makeup, an expensive black dress, and the confidence of someone who believed she had already won.Beside her was my six-year-old son, Daniel.The sight of him made my heart ache.Over the previous weeks, Chloe had inserted herself into every part of our lives. She claimed Marcus had trusted her more than anyone. She told people she had been his closest confidante. Rumors spread quickly after Marcus died, and she encouraged every one of them.

As she approached the front row, she smiled at me.It was not a grieving smile.It was a victorious one.When the priest paused for a prayer, Chloe leaned close.“Everything belongs to me now,” she whispered.I said nothing.She continued.“The company. The properties. The future.”Her eyes shifted toward Daniel.“Even the child.”I slowly raised my gaze.The confidence in her expression never wavered.“You really believe that?” I asked.“I know it.”The service continued.People gave speeches about Marcus.hey called him brilliant.Visionary.Determined.Most of them only knew the public version of him.I knew the real Marcus.And the real Marcus trusted evidence more than promises.As the final prayer ended, several attendants moved toward the coffin.The guests assumed they were preparing for the burial procession.Instead, one of them stepped forward and addressed the room.“Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated.”he church immediately fell silent.