The Dying Wife's Final Gift

The Dying Wife's Final Gift

Jillian Chinnici

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The doctor told me I had weeks to live. But the real death sentence was seeing my fiancé's hand slip into my best friend's outside the hospital room. They thought I didn't see. They had already turned my little brother against me, the boy I raised. He called her "Mom" now. At their engagement party, held in my house and paid for with my money, he looked me in the eye. "I hate you!" My own family praised her for being a "natural mother," while the world celebrated their love story. They saw a weak, dying woman, too broken to fight back. They thought they had won. So I gave them everything they wanted-my company, my fortune, my blessing. But I also left behind one final gift, a dead woman's last words. When I die, they will inherit my empire, but they will be forever branded by a legacy of eternal shame.

The Dying Wife's Final Gift Chapter 1 No.1

Dessie Hunt smiled at the signed promotion letter on her desk. Craig Snyder, her husband, was finally being transferred back to corporate headquarters. After three long years, they could finally leave this small town and go home.

She had already started packing, her heart full of hope for their shared future. All that was left was the joint relocation paperwork.

She had mentioned it to Craig several times.

"The deadline is this Friday. We need to file the joint relocation forms."

Craig always seemed distracted. "I know, I know. I' ve just been so busy with the handover. I' ll get to it."

Another day passed. "Craig, we really need to submit that paperwork."

"Dessie, can you relax? It' ll get done." He sounded impatient.

She didn't want to be a nag. He was the new manager, and his promotion was a big deal. She understood he was under pressure. But the deadline was looming.

Finally, on Friday morning, she decided to handle it herself. She was a software architect at the same company, after all. It would be simple. She walked to the HR department, a printed form in her hand.

The HR administrator looked up from her computer. "Dessie, what can I help you with?"

"Hi, I' m here to file the joint relocation paperwork for me and my husband, Craig Snyder."

The administrator frowned. She typed Craig' s name into the system. "That' s strange. The system shows Mr. Snyder has already completed the relocation filing."

Dessie felt a flicker of confusion. "He did? He didn' t tell me. Did he file for both of us?"

"No," the administrator said, her voice hesitant. "He filed a single-person relocation, but he also listed a spouse."

The confusion turned into a cold knot in Dessie' s stomach. "A spouse? But I' m his spouse."

The administrator' s eyes were full of pity. "The name listed here is Chanel Murphy."

Chanel Murphy. The name hit Dessie like a physical blow. Craig' s high-school sweetheart.

"There must be a mistake," Dessie said, her voice trembling. "Can you check again? We' re married. We have a marriage certificate."

"I' m sorry, Dessie," the administrator said gently. "The system is linked to the state' s official records. It shows his marital status changed two months ago."

Numbly, Dessie walked back to her desk. Her hands shook as she pulled out the lockbox where she kept their important documents. She took out the marriage certificate, the one she treasured.

She stared at the official-looking seal. It had to be real.

She spent the next hour on the phone with the county clerk' s office. The conversation was a blur of bureaucratic jargon and devastating facts.

"No, ma' am, we have no record of a marriage between Dessie Hunt and Craig Snyder."

"But... we got married three years ago."

A long pause, the sound of typing. "I do show a record for Craig Snyder. He was granted a divorce two months and six days ago."

"Divorce? From who?"

"From you, ma' am. Dessie Hunt."

The floor seemed to drop out from under her. She remembered signing some papers for Craig two months ago. He had told her they were investment documents, something to secure their future. He had rushed her, pointing to the signature line. She had trusted him completely.

"And," the clerk continued, oblivious to the world shattering on the other end of the line, "Mr. Snyder remarried the following day."

"To whom?" Dessie whispered, though she already knew the answer.

"A Ms. Chanel Murphy."

The puzzle pieces slammed together in her mind, forming a hideous picture. Craig' s evasiveness about the paperwork. His secret filing. The name from his past.

He hadn' t just cheated on her. He had orchestrated a breathtakingly cruel deception. He had tricked her into signing her own divorce papers.

He used her. He used her talent as a top software architect to build the very systems that got him noticed, that secured his promotion. For three years, she had put his career first, turning down her own opportunities, including a lead role on a high-stakes government contract called "Project Chimera."

She did it all for their future. A future he had already planned with someone else.

The pain was sharp and suffocating. It felt like her entire life, her identity as a loving wife, was a lie she had told herself.

She had to see him. She had to hear it from his mouth.

Dessie stormed out of her office and drove to his. She didn' t bother knocking, just pushed the door open. Craig was on the phone, a triumphant smile on his face. He looked up, startled.

"I' ll call you back," he said quickly and hung up.

He stood, his expression shifting from surprise to guarded annoyance. "Dessie? What are you doing here? You should have called."

"I tried to file our relocation paperwork," she said, her voice flat and cold.

He tensed up.

"They told me you already did," she continued. "They told me you filed with your wife. Chanel Murphy."

Craig' s face paled. He avoided her eyes. "Dessie, it' s not what you think."

"Isn' t it?" Her voice cracked. "They told me we were divorced. That you tricked me into signing the papers."

"It' s complicated," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Chanel... she needed help. It was a strategic move, for my career. It doesn' t mean anything."

"Doesn' t mean anything?" Dessie laughed, a harsh, broken sound. "You erased our marriage. You made a fool of me."

"Listen, once I' m settled at headquarters, I' ll figure out a way to bring you there," he said, his voice taking on a soothing, manipulative tone. "We can be together then. I just need you to trust me."

The sheer audacity of his lie was staggering. He was still trying to manage her, to keep her on the hook.

"I dedicated my life to you," she whispered, the words catching in her throat. "I built the software that got you this promotion. I said no to Project Chimera, for you. For us."

"And I appreciate that, Dessie, I really do-"

His phone rang, cutting him off. He glanced at the screen. The name 'Chanel' glowed.

His face softened instantly. "I have to take this."

He answered, turning his back on Dessie. "Hey, honey. Is everything okay? You sound upset."

Dessie watched as the man she thought she knew comforted his real wife, leaving her standing in the ruins of their life. He didn' t even try to hide it anymore.

He hung up a moment later. "I have to go. Chanel needs me."

He walked past her without a second glance. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Dessie alone in the sudden, deafening silence.

She stood there for a long time, the pain so intense it felt like she couldn' t breathe. Then, a different feeling started to burn through the grief. Rage.

She reached for her own phone. Her fingers were steady now. She found the number for Elek Preston, the Vice President of Engineering. The man who had offered her Project Chimera.

He answered on the second ring. "Preston."

"Elek, it' s Dessie Hunt."

"Dessie! Good to hear from you. I was sorry to hear you weren' t taking the lead on Chimera. It' s a huge opportunity."

"Is the offer still open?" she asked, her voice clear and hard.

There was a pause. "For you? Always. But I thought you were moving to headquarters with Craig."

"Plans have changed," she said. "I want the project. I' ll start immediately."

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The Dying Wife's Final Gift The Dying Wife's Final Gift Jillian Chinnici Modern
“The doctor told me I had weeks to live. But the real death sentence was seeing my fiancé's hand slip into my best friend's outside the hospital room. They thought I didn't see. They had already turned my little brother against me, the boy I raised. He called her "Mom" now. At their engagement party, held in my house and paid for with my money, he looked me in the eye. "I hate you!" My own family praised her for being a "natural mother," while the world celebrated their love story. They saw a weak, dying woman, too broken to fight back. They thought they had won. So I gave them everything they wanted-my company, my fortune, my blessing. But I also left behind one final gift, a dead woman's last words. When I die, they will inherit my empire, but they will be forever branded by a legacy of eternal shame.”
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Chapter 1 No.1

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Chapter 2 No.2

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Chapter 3 No.3

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Chapter 4 No.4

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Chapter 5 No.5

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Chapter 6 No.6

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Chapter 7 No.7

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Chapter 8 No.8

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Chapter 9 No.9

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Chapter 10 No.10

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Chapter 11 No.11

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Chapter 12 No.12

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Chapter 13 No.13

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Chapter 14 No.14

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Chapter 15 No.15

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Chapter 16 No.16

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Chapter 17 No.17

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Chapter 18 No.18

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Chapter 19 No.19

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Chapter 20 No.20

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Chapter 21 No.21

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Chapter 22 No.22

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Chapter 23 No.23

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