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I was dying of aggressive leukemia, my last chance for life, a revolutionary CAR T-cell therapy, within reach. My own family - my husband, David, and my parents - colluded to steal that life-saving treatment, diverting it to my cousin Jessie, who feigned vague illnesses for attention. Condemned to palliative care, I watched them celebrate Jessie's "recovery" while dismissing my worsening symptoms as "drama" or "negativity." I was forced to sign over everything I' d built-my beloved bakery, my bookstore, my investments-to the very woman who was orchestrating my demise. Adding insult to injury, David asked for a divorce, planning to move Jessie into our home and enthralling my son with her false charm. They called my quiet compliance "sensible," completely blind to the fact that I, sick and betrayed, was merely settling my affairs as a dying woman. How could they be so utterly oblivious, so consumed by a manipulative charade, while their daughter lay dying before their eyes? But their blind betrayal ignited a cold resolve: my surrender was merely the prelude to a posthumous retribution, carefully orchestrated in my final moments through a secret will and damning evidence, now entrusted to a shark lawyer to unleash upon them all.