Five years slipped past like autumn leaves drifting away.
Margaret’s hair thinned, her hands trembled, and her once-bright eyes dimmed. One winter morning, the doctor gave her the news: late-stage cancer. There was little time left.
Word spread quickly, and her children rushed to the nursing home. But their concern was not for her frail body.
“Did she leave any property?” Daniel whispered to Claire as they walked in.
“Has she written a will?” Claire asked the nurse at the desk.
Michael frowned. “She must have some savings, right? At least the house?”
