My husband and my sister laughed while my daughter Holly was dying in a hospital bed. Then he smirked and said, “Holly had a good run. We need that money for my son with your sister.”

I slapped Derek so hard his shoulder struck the IV pole beside our daughter’s hospital bed.

“You don’t get to bury Holly and fund your affair with her money.”

The monitor continued its steady beeping. Eight-year-old Holly lay beneath a white blanket, pale from chemotherapy, one hand curled around the ear of her stuffed rabbit. Behind the bed, my younger sister Vanessa stood seven months pregnant, wearing the cream cardigan I had given her last Christmas.

Derek touched his cheek and smiled.

“Holly had a good run,” he said. “We need that money for my son.”

Even Vanessa looked shocked.

I moved between Derek and the bed. “Get away from her.”

“Marissa, please,” Vanessa whispered. “Don’t do this here.”

I stared at the sister who had slept with my husband while helping me care for my sick child.

“Where would you prefer?”

Derek reached toward the phone on Holly’s bedside table. I grabbed it first and called Calvin Rhodes, the independent trustee of the fund my mother had created before she died.

“You told me to call if Derek tried to touch Holly’s trust.”

Calvin’s voice sharpened. “Did he submit another request?”

“He said he’s taking the money for Vanessa’s baby.”

“Then I’m suspending every pending distribution and notifying counsel.”

Derek’s expression changed.

The trust was not marital property. My mother had funded it with the proceeds from selling her bookkeeping company, and Calvin controlled all distributions for Holly’s medical care and education. Derek could submit expenses as her father, but he could not withdraw money directly.

At least that was what I believed.

My phone vibrated before Calvin ended the call.

A secure notice showed that someone had attempted to transfer $640,000 from Holly’s trust into an account belonging to North Lake Family Services.

The request carried Derek’s electronic signature.

It also carried mine.

“I never signed this,” I said.

Derek lunged for the phone.

Nurse Jenna stepped into the room and blocked him.

Vanessa stared at the transfer request. “What is North Lake?”

Derek did not answer.

Calvin spoke through the phone.

“Marissa, Derek filed an emergency guardianship petition this afternoon. He claims you’re mentally unstable and incapable of protecting Holly’s assets.”

I looked at the man who had provoked me into hitting him inside a hospital room filled with witnesses.