“I still held out a foolish hope that I was wrong about him, Jessi,” Arthur whispered, staring up at the hospital ceiling.
Three months later, the oncology team informed us that there were no further treatments available.
Luca came to the hospice suite that final evening. He sat in the chair beside his father’s bed.
“Dad… we can fix this,” Luca choked out.
“You can still fix things with your children, Luca,” Arthur replied weakly, his voice barely a breath. “With me, it is far too late.”
“I love you, Dad.”
“No,” Arthur murmured softly. “You loved what you stood to gain from my death.”
The following morning, Arthur Vance passed away peacefully.
At the funeral service, Luca stood off to the side, silent and stony-faced. I thought perhaps the gravity of his loss had finally broken through his arrogance.
I was wrong.
The moment the final mourners had cleared out and I was standing alone beside the freshly covered grave, Luca strode over.
“Don’t get comfortable thinking that company belongs to you, Jessi,” he growled.
I looked at him calmly. “What are you saying?”
“I’m filing a formal petition to contest the will. I’m going to prove in court that you mentally incapacitated my father.”
I looked down at the fresh flowers resting on the dark soil.
His father had been buried less than an hour ago, and Luca had already declared the very war Arthur had spent his final months preparing me to fight.
What Luca didn’t realize was that Rachel Vance held a piece of evidence that would utterly destroy his case before it ever reached a jury.
PART 3
The formal court petition arrived ten days later.
Luca’s lawsuit claimed that his father, weakened by advanced cancer and heavy palliative narcotics, lacked the mental capacity to comprehend the legal documents he was executing. He named me directly, alleging that I had systematically isolated Arthur, preyed on his vulnerability, and coerced him into stripping his only biological son of his inheritance.
Reading those legal filings was deeply painful.
Not because I feared losing the corporate shares, but because every afternoon I had spent cooking Arthur’s meals, every prescription I had collected, every late night in the hospital suite, and every quiet conversation with a man who knew he was dying were now painted as the calculated moves of a greedy imposter.
My attorney asked me flatly, “Do you want to settle out of court?”
“What is he offering?” I asked.
“Luca wants full ownership of Vance Global and the main estate. He claims he’ll allow a trust fund to remain intact for Kelly and Leo.”
I looked at my lawyer. “He’s trying to negotiate using assets that were never his to begin with.”
“Precisely.”
“Then we fight it.”
Arthur had anticipated every single move his son would make.