Chapter 4: Stepmothers

Her father had been terrifyingly meticulous when he drafted the will. Arthur Wellington had anticipated every argument, every loophole, every desperate attempt to overturn his final wishes. Even in death, he had managed to stay three steps ahead of everyone in the room.

Barrister Dash adjusted his glasses before turning another page.

"In accordance with the instructions of the deceased," he read calmly, "Mrs. Diva Wellington shall inherit ten percent of Mr. Wellington's real estate portfolio."

A few heads turned toward Diva. She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow but otherwise remained unfazed, simply crossing one elegant leg over the other.

"Mrs. Evelyn Wellington"—Barrister Dash nodded respectfully toward Salma's mother—"shall inherit thirty percent of Mr. Wellington's prime investment holdings."

Salma's mother didn't react. She simply folded her hands in her lap, her expression as composed as ever.

Barrister Dash continued.

"The remaining spouses of the deceased shall each receive an annual allowance of one million dollars, ownership of the residences currently occupied by them, and permanent possession of all vehicles registered in their respective names."

A murmur swept through the room. Several of the wives exchanged uncertain glances. That couldn't be all.

Barrister Dash turned one final page.

"As for the children born during the marriages contracted after Mrs. Evelyn Wellington..."

He paused briefly.

"...court-certified DNA reports attached to this will confirm that none are biological descendants of the late Arthur Wellington Bush. Consequently, no inheritance has been assigned to them under this estate."

For a heartbeat, no one breathed. The words seemed to hang in the air, too shocking for anyone to fully comprehend. The children themselves looked hopelessly confused, too young to understand why their mothers' faces had suddenly drained of color.

Poppy was the first to explode. She shot to her feet so abruptly that her chair screeched across the marble floor.

"A million dollars?" she repeated, letting out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. With one angry flick of her wrist, she threw her signature purple scarf over her shoulder, the expensive silk catching the light as she glared at Barrister Dash.

"A million dollars after everything I did for Arthur Wellington?"

Her voice echoed through the parlor.

"I stood beside that man for nearly twenty years. I helped build his public image. I entertained his investors. I raised this family while he buried himself in work, and this..." She pointed angrily at the will lying open on the table. "...this is what he leaves me?"

Her gaze swept toward her five boys. "And not one mention of my sons?"

Her lips trembled—not with grief, but humiliation. "He waited until he was dead to call me a cheat."

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "The coward."

She grabbed Isaac by the shoulder before motioning for the younger boys to follow.

"I'm contesting this will," she declared. "Every last page of it. Let the courts decide whether Arthur Wellington gets to insult my children."

Without waiting for anyone to answer, she swept toward the doors, her boys hurrying after her in stunned silence.

The slam of the doors echoed through the mansion. Poppy had barely reached the door when Hilda struggled to her feet.

"No!" she cried, one hand flying instinctively to her swollen stomach. "This can't be happening."

Unlike Poppy's anger, Hilda's voice carried genuine fear. Tears gathered in her eyes as she looked desperately from Barrister Dash to Salma's mother, as though someone—anyone—might tell her there had been a mistake.

"How dare he accuse me of cheating?" she whispered, her breathing growing uneven. "My baby hasn't even been born yet. His father died before he could even meet him, and now he's... he's being rejected before he takes his first breath?"

Her lower lip trembled. "I won't accept this."

She bent slowly to pick up her handbag, wincing under the weight of her pregnancy before making her way toward the door.

Eby let out an exaggerated scoff.

"Oh, spare me," she said, rolling her eyes. "Arthur was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. If he ordered DNA tests, it's because he already knew what he'd find."

Her gaze drifted deliberately toward Hilda's stomach before settling on Barrister Dash. "But I hope you're prepared for the lawsuits this little performance is going to attract."

Christy folded her arms tightly across her chest. "So that's it?" she said bitterly. "Years of marriage, and we all leave here with an allowance?"

Kristen gave a humorless laugh."I suppose we should be grateful he didn't leave us matching gift baskets instead."

Even in the middle of the tension, Diva couldn't suppress the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Of everyone in the room, Diva was the only one who looked neither surprised nor outraged. She simply looked... entertained.

Barrister Dash remained seated, his weathered face calm despite the storm unfolding around him.

"The provisions of the will are legally binding," he said evenly. "If any beneficiary wishes to contest them, that is your legal right. However, I must advise you that Mr. Wellington anticipated such action. Every clause has already undergone extensive legal review."

"You keep saying that," Eby snapped. "We'll see what a judge has to say."

Without another word, she stormed out. The others followed soon after. Some left in silence whole others continued shouting all the way down the corridor.

Children called after their mothers, confused by the anger they didn't yet understand. Housemaids hurried aside to clear a path as expensive heels clicked sharply against the marble floors.

One by one, luxury cars pulled away from the mansion. The noise that had consumed the house only moments ago slowly faded into the distance.

An uneasy silence settled over the grand parlor.

The maids quietly began clearing untouched cups of tea, replacing scattered chairs and gathering forgotten napkins as though trying to restore order to a room that had just witnessed a family falling apart.

Salma remained exactly where she was. Her eyes drifted across the room until they found the three men again. They hadn't moved. They still stood silently near the entrance, their expressions unreadable, waiting with a patience that somehow made the room feel even smaller.

For the first time, Salma wondered whether this silence had been drilled into them too. Whether her father had prepared them for this moment just as carefully as he'd prepared the will. Salma didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until her mother quietly rose from her seat.