Everyone wore black, mourning in silence—except Vivian and her kids, who arrived in white, turning heads for all the wrong reasons. My anger boiled as I confronted her. “Why are you dressed like this at my dad’s funeral?” She smirked, claiming it was his wish, producing a letter to prove it. Skeptical, I watched her take a front-row seat, basking in attention.
During the service, Dad’s best friend, Joe, stepped forward with his own letter. He revealed Dad’s true feelings: gratitude for my mom, who cared for him, and disappointment in Vivian and her kids for neglecting him and stealing his money. Dad’s instructions for them to wear white were deliberate—to expose them.
The crowd’s shock turned to judgment. Vivian lashed out, denying the accusations, but Joe stayed firm, reading Dad’s final wish: that she and her kids leave. Cornered and humiliated, Vivian stormed out, defeated.
The ceremony continued in peace, celebrating Dad’s life with love and laughter. Even in death, he had orchestrated justice, unmasking deception and ensuring his true loved ones could honor him. As Joe shared a story about Dad, I smiled, knowing he’d chosen his moment perfectly.
