Chapter 4: The Photograph That Shouldn't Exist
I stared at the photograph until the edges of my phone began to blur.
My father was sitting at his kitchen table, wearing the gray sweater I had buried him in.
Daniel sat beside him.
And in Daniel's hand was a document bearing my father's signature.
But the date displayed in the photograph was impossible.
My father had died eleven months before it was supposedly taken.
"Michael," I whispered.
"Look at this.""
He took my phone.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he zoomed in on the date.
"Who sent you this?""
"Patricia.""
Michael looked at Diane.
"Can you determine whether this image has been manipulated?""
Diane took the phone and studied it.
"I can examine the original file. But I wouldn't rely on a screenshot.""
I forwarded the photograph to her.
Then another message arrived.
*Patricia:*
Your father knew what he was doing. Daniel was helping him protect the family assets. You should be grateful.
I felt sick.
My father had never trusted Daniel with money.
In fact, Dad had once told me something that I hadn't understood at the time.
"Sarah, if a man ever tells you that love means giving him control over everything you've built, remember that you don't owe him your future.""
I had laughed when he said it.
Now those words felt like a warning.
Michael pulled a chair toward me.
"Tell me everything you remember about your father's final months.""
I took a breath.
"He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. During his last six weeks, he barely left his bedroom. I was there almost every day.""
"Did Daniel visit him?""
"Occasionally. He usually stayed downstairs because Dad didn't like having too many people around.""
"Did your father ever discuss changing his will?""
"No. He had already updated it before his diagnosis. I was the sole beneficiary.""
Michael nodded.
"Who handled the estate?""
"His attorney, Robert Collins. He sent me all the documents.""
"Do you still have them?""
"Every single one.""
Michael leaned back.
"Then we need to contact him immediately.""
I called Robert Collins from the conference room.
He answered cheerfully.
"Sarah! How are you doing?""
"Robert, I need to ask you something about my father's estate.""
His tone changed.
"Of course. Is something wrong?""
"Did my father ever establish a trust involving Daniel?""
There was a pause.
"No.""
"Did he ever transfer ownership of his house to anyone else?""
"Absolutely not. Your father specifically instructed me that the property was to pass directly to you.""
I closed my eyes.
"Someone has sent me a photograph of a supposed will transferring the house into a trust.""
Robert became very quiet.
"Sarah, do you have that document?""
"Yes.""
"Send it to me. And don't sign anything.""
After I forwarded the photograph, Robert called back less than five minutes later.
"Sarah, I recognize that document.""
My heart jumped.
"You do?""
"Not the document itself. The template. It's an outdated estate-planning form. Your father would never have used it.""
"How can you be sure?""
"Because I prepared his actual will. I also have the original notarized copy.""
Then he added something that made me sit upright.
"There's another issue. Three months before your father's death, someone contacted my office asking for copies of his property records.""
"Who?""
"Daniel Thompson.""
I gripped the phone.
"What did he say?""
"He claimed your father had asked him to organize some financial paperwork. I refused because Daniel wasn't authorized to receive confidential estate documents.""
Michael immediately wrote down the date.
"Did Daniel ever return?""
Robert hesitated.
"Yes. With a woman.""
"Who?""
"Patricia Thompson.""
I looked at Michael.
He mouthed, His mother.
Robert continued.
"They wanted information about an old insurance policy. I told them the same thing.""
I ended the call.
The pattern was becoming impossible to ignore.
Daniel and Patricia had been investigating my father's assets long before he died.
But why?
Michael placed the photograph on his screen.
"Sarah, there's something we need to consider. If they've created a fraudulent will, they may be trying to establish a claim that your father transferred the property before his death.""
"But the date is fake.""
"That doesn't mean they won't try to use it.""
Diane suddenly looked up.
"There's something else.""
She enlarged the image.
"Look at the clock on the kitchen wall.""
I leaned closer.
It showed 4:15.
Then she pointed toward the calendar hanging behind my father.
The calendar displayed the month of September.
My father had died in October.
The photograph could have been taken a month before his death.
I felt my stomach drop.
"Then the date was edited.""
"Possibly," Diane said.
"Someone may have altered the timestamp to make it appear that the document was signed after your father's death. But we need the original image to establish that.""
I looked again at Daniel.
He was smiling.
Not the polite smile he used at family dinners.
A different one.
A satisfied smile.
My phone rang.
It was Patricia.
I answered.
"Why are you sending me fake documents?""
She laughed softly.
"Sarah, you really should stop accusing people before you understand what's happening.""
"Did you help Daniel forge my father's will?""
"Watch your mouth.""
"Did you?""
Her voice became colder.
"Your father wasn't the wonderful man you think he was.""
I stood up.
"Don't you dare talk about my father.""
"Then stop pretending you know everything about him.""
I heard a click.
She had ended the call.
A minute later, another message arrived.
Come to my house tonight. Alone. There are things about your father that Daniel never told you.
Michael shook his head immediately.
"No.""
"I need to know what she's talking about.""
"Then we'll arrange a controlled meeting with legal representation.""
But before I could respond, a new notification appeared from my bank.
*Large withdrawal attempt blocked.*
The attempted amount was $120,000.
The requesting account belonged to my business.
I looked at Michael.
"They're still trying.""
He picked up his phone.
"Then we're going to make sure they don't get another chance.""
But when Diane opened the original security footage from my office, she noticed something none of us had seen.
Daniel hadn't entered the safe to take documents.
He had removed a small black box.
A box my father had given me shortly before he died.
May you like
And I suddenly remembered what Dad had said when he handed it to me.
Don't open this unless someone tries to take your house.
