THE WOMAN IN HIS LAST WILL

VARESSA'S POV

The first thing I noticed was the blood.

It soaked the white marble floor, creeping in a dark pool right under Lucien Arden's desk.

Next, I saw my husband.

He was sprawled on his back beside the desk.

Already dead.

I stood there in the doorway, frozen. My hand still clung to the brass handle while my brain tried to deny what I saw.

Lucien was supposed to be fine. We were supposed to talk tonight-a final conversation. I'd been rehearsing what I'd say all the way home, working up the courage.

I would tell him I was finished. That I was done pretending our marriage was anything more than an expensive prison full of empty rooms. Done sleeping alone while he slipped in and out like a ghost. Done waiting for the man who'd married me three years ago, only to morph into a stranger.

I'd even slipped the signed divorce papers into my handbag, ready to toss them on his desk.

Instead, I found a body.

"Lucien?"

My voice barely carried.

I stepped into the room. The door clicked shut behind me. My heart stumbled, then rushed.

"No."

I crossed the space between us.

"Lucien."

His face was tilted toward the window, eyes closed. Blood leaked through his shirt.

A knife stuck out of his chest.

I stopped breathing.

"No, no, no..."

My legs buckled and I dropped to the floor. My hands hovered over his neck, then gently touched his skin.

Cold.

Too cold.

"Lucien..."

I shook his shoulder. He didn't move. I pressed two fingers to his throat. Still nothing.

The man I'd watched leave this house this morning was just a body now-someone I barely recognized.

My husband was dead.

A sound scraped out of me-not quite a scream, more like something breaking.

I knelt there, staring. Three years of marriage. Three years of fighting, secrets, silence, and lies. Three years of beds that felt too big, too empty.

And still, seeing him like this hurt more than I ever thought it could.

My eyes burned. I hated that. I told myself I hated him, but if that was true, why did my chest ache?

I reached for his face, my fingers barely brushing his cheek.

"Why?" I whispered. "Why did you have to die before I could leave you?"

A noise broke behind me-footsteps.

I whirled around.

The study door burst open. A security guard stood there.

His eyes darted from Lucien to me, to the knife, and his face changed.

"Mrs. Arden..."

"I didn't do this."

He stared at me.

"I just got here."

He said nothing. His hand went to his radio.

"Sir, we have an emergency in the west study."

My stomach twisted.

"Wait."

He glanced at me.

"Please."

I stood up. "I found him like this. I didn't-"

Heavy footsteps pounded in. Two more guards rushed in. One stared at Lucien. The other watched me. Then his gaze dropped to my hands.

Blood. Lucien's blood.

He hardened his voice. "Don't move."

"What?"

"Show me your hands."

I lifted them slowly. "You think I killed him?"

No one said a word. That silence felt colder than an accusation.

And then I realized-the study door had been locked when I got here. I used my key to open it. So whoever killed Lucien either locked the door behind them, or...

My gaze swept the room.

All the windows: shut. The balcony door: locked. No one was behind the curtains-not under the desk. There wasn't another way out.

My pulse jumped.

If nobody left after I got here, then how did the killer escape?

A guard spoke up. "Call the police."

"Already did," the first one replied.

Ice rushed through me.

He already called? Before anyone asked?

"How did you know?" I whispered.

He stared at me. "Know what?"

"That something happened."

He didn't reply. Another guard stepped closer.

"Mrs. Arden, step away from the body."

I couldn't move. My eyes locked on Lucien.

Something was off. The whole scene felt scripted. The knife. The locked room. The blood. My timing.

Then I noticed a small red mark on Lucien's wrist. Not blood-a bruise. Like he'd been grabbed. And another near his collar.

Maybe he was attacked somewhere else. Maybe someone just dumped him here.

Sirens shrieked outside. Cops flooded the house. Cameras flashed. Questions flew.

When did I get here?

Why was I here?

Did Lucien have enemies?

Were we fighting?

Did I want out?

I answered as best I could. But then came the question I knew was coming.

"Mrs. Arden, did you kill your husband?"

I stared at the detective.

"No."

"Were you angry with him?"

"Yes."

Silence.

I swallowed. "We were getting divorced."

The detective paused, pen hovering. "Divorced?"

"Yes."

"Did he know?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell him tonight?"

I glanced at Lucien's body. "I came to tell him."

The detective nodded at my hands.

"Your fingerprints are on the murder weapon."

My stomach lurched.

"What?"

He pointed at the knife. "Your fingerprints are there."

I shook my head. "I never touched it."

"You were on the floor beside him."

"I was trying to help him."

"Your blood isn't on the knife."

"I didn't touch it."

"Then explain your prints."

"I can't."

He pressed his lips together. "That makes things hard for you."

"I didn't kill my husband."

He looked at me. "Then someone wants it to look like you did."

Finally-a hint of sense.

His phone rang. He answered, his face shifting as he listened.

"Yes."

He listened more.

"Tonight?"

Another pause. "Understood."

He hung up.

"What's going on?" I asked.

He eyed me. "The Arden family lawyer's on his way."

"Why?"

"He says your husband left specific instructions about his death."

My heart almost stopped.

"What instructions?"

He didn't answer.

Ten minutes crawled by. Then the front doors swung open.

Sevrin Hale-Lucien's lawyer-walked in wearing a black suit. He didn't even look at me. He headed for the study.

The detective blocked him. "You can't come in."

Sevrin pulled a sealed envelope from his coat.

"My client gave me this."

The detective studied it. "What is it?"

"His will."

I could barely breathe.

Lucien made a will? Since when?

Sevrin finally looked at me, his face unreadable.

Then he said, "The will includes specific instructions for Mrs. Arden."

My heart hammered.

"What instructions?"

His eyes met mine. "I was told to read the will tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He barely spoke. "Because Mr. Arden believed he'd be killed."

The floor seemed to vanish.

Lucien knew? He saw it coming?

And then Sevrin said, "According to his instructions, Mrs. Arden must attend the reading."

The detective frowned. "Why?"

Sevrin stared at the envelope. "Because Mr. Arden left her everything."

My mouth went dry.

Everything? That was impossible.

His money. His company. His shares. His houses. His entire fortune-everything.

He barely spoke to me for months. Why leave it all to the wife who came here carrying signed divorce papers?

No way. It didn't make sense.

I glanced at Lucien's body.

Now, fear tunneled further. Colder, deeper.

Lucien had seen this coming? He'd left a will? He knew I'd be accused?

Maybe this wasn't some random murder. Maybe it was all planned.

And maybe-

I was just another part of it.

Sevrin spoke again. "There's another instruction."

I braced myself.

He slid the envelope open and removed a small device.

"There's a recording."

"From Lucien?"

"Yes."

He set it on the desk. Everyone gathered. Someone pressed play.

Static. Then his voice-Lucien's voice-filled the room. Calm. Steady. Impossible to mistake.

"If you're hearing this..."

He paused.

"...then I'm already dead."

Someone sucked in a breath behind me.

He kept going.

"And if Varessa is being accused of killing me..."

Everything in me went cold.

"...then everything happened exactly as I feared."

I covered my mouth.

"Varessa, you need to understand," he said, voice softer. "I didn't leave you my fortune out of love."

My heart cracked.

"I left it to you because I knew they would come for you next."

Then-nothing. Silence swallowed us.

Everyone stared at the little device.

Suddenly, another line crackled out.

"Don't trust anyone carrying the Arden name."

And then, from somewhere behind me, a voice whispered-

"She's going to die next."

I spun, searching for who said it.

Nobody owned up.

And then, just like that-

Every light in the house went out.

Total darkness.