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The air in the lawyer’s office was thick with a palpable tension, far heavier than the weight of grief Marina already carried. This was meant to be a moment of solemn closure, a formal ritual to honor Elias’s final wishes and secure Marina’s future in the home they had meticulously built together over sixteen years. Her hands were clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles gleamed white, a stark testament to the anxiety gnawing at her. She braced herself, anticipating a document that would echo the enduring love and steadfast devotion she had poured into their shared life. She expected provisions, comfort, and recognition. But as the lawyer’s voice droned on, articulating the cold, legalistic terms of Elias’s last will and testament, a chilling realization slowly began to dawn on Marina. The words spoken weren’t about her, weren’t for her. Her name was conspicuously, brutally absent. The entire legacy – the cherished house, their painstakingly saved life savings, the very foundation of their existence – all of it was designated solely for Elias’s children from his first marriage. There was absolutely no mention of Marina, no allowance, no safeguard for the woman who had stood faithfully by his side through every challenge and every triumph. Her world, already shattered, was now falling into an abyss. And then, a shadow fell across the doorway, and Marina looked up to see a familiar, icy face. The nightmare was just beginning.
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