“Your mother is gone. Tears won’t bring her back—so wipe your face, make dinner, and don’t look like a grieving child when my guests arrive.” That was what my husband said.

He looked at Mark with a murderous glare. And today, Mr. Evans, before my own eyes and dozens of witnesses, you have proven that you do not meet that exception clause. You have done the exact opposite. You celebrated a party on your wife’s grief. You have insulted me and the deceased. Therefore, I hereby declare that Mrs. Vance’s will comes into full effect. You receive nothing, not a single cent.” Mark screamed. His scream was not of pain, but of rage and desperation. The scream of a loser who had lost everything. He tried to get up and lunge at the table to snatch the documents, shouting that it was unfair, that as a husband he was entitled to his wife’s assets.