My mother-in-law dragged me to court, accusing me of pretending to be pregnant to snatch the inheritance. Then, right there in the courtroom, she lunged forward and kicked my stomach. “See? It’s all fake!” Gasps erupted. What she didn’t realize… the man behind the judge’s bench was my father. And in that instant, her case didn’t just fall apart. Her life did haj.

One afternoon, my father walked into my room, carrying a cup of herbal tea. He looked older, the lines around his eyes deeper, but the “Iron Gavel” had been replaced by the doting grandfather.

“Agatha’s lawyer tried to plead for a settlement,” he said, sitting in the armchair beside me. “He said she was ‘mentally unstable’ due to grief.”

“And what did you say?” I asked.

“I told him that grief is a reason to mourn, not a license to assault. She’s going away for ten years, Elara. And by the time she gets out, the Sterling name will be a footnote in a bankruptcy textbook.”

“I never wanted this, Dad,” I sighed. “I just wanted Marcus.”

“I know, baby. But Marcus knew this day would come.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, gold locket that I recognized. It was Marcus’s. “He gave this to my clerk three days before the accident. He told me that if anything happened to him, I was to give it to you only after his mother showed her true face.”