I was waiting for him to finish accumulating the wealth.
I needed the empire to be as vast as possible. More importantly, I was waiting for him to commit the ultimate, undeniable act of fraud—the very act he was executing right now, on his deathbed, in front of a licensed attorney. By signing those assets over to Melissa through a trust designed to bypass probate and marital asset division, he wasn’t just cheating on his wife; he was actively attempting to launder illicitly obtained, tax-evaded funds.
I set my porcelain teacup down on the metal tray. It made a soft, final *clink* that seemed to echo in the quiet room.
I walked slowly, deliberately, toward his bedside. My shadow fell over Melissa, forcing her to instinctively step back. I didn’t look at her. I didn’t look at his mother. My eyes were locked entirely on Victor. The dying king.
**Victor’s eyes locked onto mine, expecting a final plea of desperation, completely unprepared for the chilling, predatory smile that was slowly spreading across my face as I opened my mouth to deliver his death sentence.*
The Death Sentence
I brought my lips mere inches from his ear. I was close enough to smell the sourness of his breath, close enough to feel the shallow, ragged rhythm of his dying lungs.
*”Congratulations, Victor,”* I whispered. My voice wasn’t laced with anger or sorrow. It was as smooth, cold, and flawless as freshly cut glass. *”You finally gave them everything.”*
Victor’s victorious, smug smile faltered. A flicker of deep, primal confusion crossed his pale, sunken features. His brow furrowed, trying to decipher the absolute absence of grief in my tone.
I leaned in even closer, letting the suffocating weight of thirteen years of unbroken silence condense into a single, devastating breath.
