A pregnant woman discovered a wallet near her husband’s gravestone. When she opened it, she was paralyzed by what she saw inside…

“You said all your husband’s money vanished after you were locked up?” “That’s right,” Julia nodded. “I asked my second fiancé, the guard, to look into it through his friends in economic law. They said Victor’s company vanished overnight, accounts emptied.”

Arthur vowed to investigate, then studied the photos closely, noticing the two conflicting death certificates for his father. “You know, Julia,” he said, “without you, I’d never have proven their role in Dad’s death. Thank you. I think it’s time I stepped out of the shadows.”

“I hope you succeed, Arthur,” Julia wished him luck. “Those people deserve to face the law. Working for them, I saw they’d do anything for profit.”

Printing the photos and documents as evidence, Arthur went to the police, explaining his situation in detail. The detectives were shocked by the twist in a long-closed case but agreed to help, especially since Lauren’s involvement gave them a lead in another sensitive matter.

The next day, Arthur—clean-shaven, freshly trimmed, and in a sharp new suit—pulled up to Susan’s Bryn Mawr mansion in a gleaming luxury car. The guards nearly fainted seeing the “deceased” man alive. He convinced them he was flesh and blood and needed to speak with Susan and Oliver urgently.

The thin woman in an emerald pantsuit, seated at her desk, thought she’d misheard when told who’d arrived. She assumed it was some con artist exploiting her family’s scandalous past. Her husband’s death had caused a media frenzy in Philadelphia, forcing Susan and her sons to fend off reporters.

Arthur didn’t wait for an invitation, brushing past the guards and storming upstairs. With one strong push, he opened the door and faced his scheming stepmother. Susan paled, clutching her chest at the sight of her long-dead stepson. “This can’t be, Arthur,” she gasped. “You died in that crash on the bridge. We saw your car’s wreckage.”

Ignoring her, Arthur said coolly, “Good morning to you too, Mother. So, have you and Oliver spent all Dad’s money yet? Or is there still something left in those offshore accounts you’ve been funneling to the Caymans all year?” Hearing about the money, Susan snapped back to her icy self. Arthur gave her credit—she held up well, despite her rotten, greedy nature.

“Nice to know you still care so much about your father’s business,” Susan said slowly, rising from her desk. “If only my real son were you instead of that fool, Oliver.” Arthur silently pulled the documents from his bag and tossed them onto her desk. “Game’s over, Mom. This proves you killed Dad, including the real death certificate showing he didn’t die of a heart attack. You gave him an overdose of his prescribed meds, knowing it’d stop his heart, then bribed the coroner for a clean report, right? But Oliver, the idiot, couldn’t part with the original. He’s always been too emotional and erratic, even getting tangled with a girl who tried to poison him.”

Susan’s frozen face twitched when she heard about her son. “What? What poisoning?” she asked, confused. Just then, Oliver entered. His eyes bulged in terror at his “dead” half-brother. Finally, he looked at his mother, stammering, “Mom, am I seeing things, or is that really Arthur?”

“No, son, you’re not imagining it,” Susan replied dryly. “Your brother wants to lock us up over some flimsy papers whose authenticity is questionable. What’s this about poisoning?” Oliver froze, unsure how to respond to his brother’s return after a year of believing him dead. Arthur cut through the tension. Adjusting his jacket, he glanced at his watch as police sirens wailed outside.

“Oh, looks like the cops are here,” he said with a smile. “I bet they’re eager to hear about Dad, your two attempts to kill me, and your countless financial schemes.” Oliver lunged at Arthur with a yell, but Arthur blocked him. Meanwhile, Susan pulled a pistol from her desk drawer and aimed it at her stepson.

“Should’ve done this two years ago in Dubai,” she hissed. “One little slip on that mall rooftop, and you’d be worm food for real.” She pulled the trigger, and a shot rang out. Arthur ducked just in time, but Oliver wasn’t so lucky. “Mom!” he gasped weakly, slumping to the floor.

“No!” Susan screamed. “Oliver, my boy, no!” She rushed to him but froze as armed police stormed in. “Well, we’ve got plenty to discuss, Ms. Elizabeth,” the lead detective said, eyeing her and her wounded son. He spoke into his radio: “Ambulance to Cherry Lane, fast, house 22, gunshot wound to the shoulder. Suspect’s alive but losing blood.”

Minutes later, handcuffs clicked onto Susan’s wrists. “Don’t think I’ll be inside long, Arthur,” she sneered. “I’ve got top-tier lawyers, thanks to your daddy’s safety net.” “I wouldn’t count on it,” Arthur replied calmly. “I called them—they won’t touch a case involving Dad’s killer. And we’re not family anymore, Susan, so the best you’ll get is a public defender, and I hear they’re not great.”

Susan snarled in fury as the police led her to a squad car. The ambulance arrived soon after, taking Oliver away on a stretcher. Doctors would remove the bullet his mother fired before handing him over to the authorities.

The investigation revealed deleted messages in a secret chat on Susan’s phone, where she and Oliver had arranged the alley attack and brake sabotage on Arthur’s car, using a shady driver their father had fired. That, plus a knife with the driver’s fingerprints stored in the safe, ensured long sentences for Susan and her accomplice son. Oliver later admitted he kept the evidence to turn on his mother if she tried to cut him out of the inheritance…