The Dying Wife's Final Gift

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.