After My Husband's Death, My Stepchildren Wanted Everything—Until My Lawyer Revealed The Real Will скачать в хорошем качестве

After My Husband's Death, My Stepchildren Wanted Everything—Until My Lawyer Revealed The Real Will

I never thought I'd be sitting alone in a house that suddenly felt too large, too empty, and somehow no longer mine. The grandfather clock in the hallway—the one Maxwell insisted on restoring himself despite having no experience with antiques—ticked relentlessly, each sound reminding me that time continued moving forward even when my world had stopped. Three weeks had passed since I buried my husband, but the pain remained as fresh as the roses I placed on his grave every Sunday. What I didn't expect was that my grief would soon be overshadowed by a battle I never saw coming. Before we jump back in, tell us where you're tuning in from, and if this story touches you, make sure you're subscribed—because tomorrow, I've saved something extra special for you! My name is Eleanor Whitcroft, though everyone has called me Ellie since before I can remember. At fifty-eight, I never imagined I'd be starting over. Maxwell and I had twenty-three beautiful years together. We met later in life—both of us carrying baggage from previous relationships. Mine was emotional scars from a divorce; his was three nearly-grown children who never quite warmed to the idea of their father finding happiness again. Our wedding at Azure Bay was intimate, with the sunset painting the sky in hues of gold and purple. Maxwell's children—Piers, Bianca, and Xavier—stood stiffly in expensive attire, offering mechanical congratulations while their eyes remained cold. I tried for years to bridge the gap, hosting holiday dinners, remembering birthdays, attending their graduations and weddings. Nothing seemed to thaw the ice. Eventually, Maxwell and I created our own bubble of happiness, focusing on each other and the life we built together at Halcyon Estate. Maxwell's death was unexpected—a heart attack while working late at Whitcroft Industries headquarters. One moment he was finalizing acquisition paperwork; the next, he was gone. I wasn't even granted the chance to say goodbye. The funeral was a blur of black clothing and whispered condolences. I remember standing beside the casket, my hand resting on the polished wood, while Piers organized the proceedings with clinical efficiency. Bianca handled the reception with the same precision she applied to her luxury real estate showings. Xavier stood in the corner, nursing a drink, his eyes darting occasionally to the family portrait where his father's hand rested on my shoulder. It was exactly one week after the funeral when they descended upon Halcyon Estate—all three of them arriving within minutes of each other as if coordinated. "Ellie," Piers began, not bothering to remove his designer sunglasses as he strode into the living room. At thirty-six, he had his father's height but none of his warmth. "We need to discuss the estate. " Bianca settled herself on the antique fainting couch, crossing her legs elegantly. "We've been patient, giving you time to grieve, but certain matters can't wait. " Xavier, the youngest at thirty, wandered around the room, picking up and examining objects as if calculating their value. "Dad would want everything sorted quickly. He always hated loose ends. " I invited them to sit, offering tea that none of them accepted. Josephine, our housekeeper of fifteen years, quietly brought in a tray anyway, her eyes meeting mine with silent support. "What matters need discussing? " I asked, wrapping my fingers around a warm teacup. Piers cleared his throat. "Father's will, of course. The reading is scheduled for tomorrow at Blackstone Law Offices. We wanted to speak with you beforehand to ensure a. . . smooth transition. " "Transition? " The word felt wrong in my mouth. "Father built this company from nothing," Bianca interjected. "Whitcroft Industries is our legacy—our birthright. We've all worked there since university. " This wasn't entirely true. Piers had indeed followed his father into business, holding an executive position. Bianca occasionally consulted on property acquisitions. Xavier had been given various roles over the years, none of which he maintained for more than a few months. "Maxwell never discussed the specifics of his will with me," I said truthfully. "He always said everything was taken care of. " Xavier snorted, finally dropping into a chair. "Come on, Ellie. You must have some idea what you're getting. The jewelry? A stipend? Maybe the vacation house in Vermont? " The casual dismissal in his tone made my tea suddenly taste bitter. These three adults sitting before me had never seen me as their father's wife—only as an interloper, someone temporary despite over two decades of marriage. "I suppose we'll all find out tomorrow," I replied evenly. "We thought it might be easier," Piers continued, ignoring my response, "if we discussed your living arrangements now.