What they didn’t realize was that I had remained close to my late husband’s brother all these years. Peter, often known as Uncle Peter, is a leading heart surgeon in the country. When I explained what was going on, he scheduled my operation. Pro Bono.
I chose not to notify my stepchildren. I let them continue playing their little game of seeming to care and throwing clues about’making peace,’ while secretly scheming to divide my estate. Then came my ‘d3ath.’
With Peter’s assistance, I staged it. The paperwork was issued by the hospital. My will was’read’—though, conveniently, I had made arrangements for a second version to remain undisclosed for the time being. The funeral was scheduled.
They arrived dressed in black, crocodile tears on full display, perhaps already deciding what to sell first. This is when the doors opened:
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