Chapter 8: Greg’s Confession
I called Greg immediately.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Claire?””
“Where are you?””
“At home.””
“Are you alone?””
Silence.
“Greg?””
“Yes.””
“Then lock your door.””
His breathing changed.
“Why?””
“Someone photographed me at the storage unit.””
“What?””
“And they sent me your name.””
There was a long pause.
Then Greg said, “You need to come here.””
“Why?””
“Because Sarah is here.””
My stomach dropped.
“Put her on the phone.””
“She won't talk to you.””
“Greg, what happened?””
“I found something.””
“What?””
“I'll tell you when you get here.””
I didn't want to go.
Every instinct told me not to.
But Greg had been the only person who had admitted Sarah was planning this for months.
Linda drove.
Greg lived in a small brick townhouse twenty minutes away.
The curtains were closed when we arrived.
He opened the door before we knocked.
His face was gray.
Sarah stood behind him.
She looked exhausted.
“You shouldn't have come,” she said.
I stepped inside.
“You knew someone was watching me.””
“Yes.””
“Who?””
“I don't know.””
“You keep saying that.””
“Because it's true.””
I looked at Greg.
“What did you find?””
He reached into a drawer and pulled out a tablet.
“I copied Sarah's email before she changed the password.””
Sarah glared at him.
“You promised me.””
“I promised to help you,” he said.
“Not to help you destroy your mother.””
Sarah flinched.
I looked at the screen.
There were dozens of emails.
Renovation contractors.
A real estate attorney.
A bank.
A private investigator.
I scrolled.
One email caught my eye.
*Subject: Capacity Evaluation*
I opened it.
The email was from a law office.
It discussed arranging a private assessment of my mental capacity.
I looked at Sarah.
“You were going to declare me incompetent.””
“No.””
“It says right here.””
“I needed a backup plan.””
“For what?””
“The trust.””
“You wanted control.””
“Yes.””
Her answer was so quiet that I almost missed it.
“Why?””
Sarah sat down.
“Because Dad told me you wouldn't survive financially without help.””
I stared at her.
“My husband never said that.””
“He did.””
“He trusted me.””
“He worried about you.””
“Then why did he leave me control?””
“He didn't.””
I frowned.
“What?””
Sarah looked at Greg.
Then back at me.
“Dad changed his will.””
My heart stopped.
“When?””
“Three months before he died.””
“Why?””
“He found out something.””
“What?””
She shook her head.
“I don't know.””
“You expect me to believe that?””
“I swear.””
Greg spoke.
“He found out about the original trust.””
I looked at him.
“What original trust?””
“The one your mother created.””
Sarah nodded.
“Grandma had put the cottage into a trust years before Dad died.””
“That doesn't make sense.””
“It does if you read the old documents.””
I sat down.
“So why did Dad change his will?””
Sarah's eyes filled with tears.
“Because he discovered someone had been trying to transfer the cottage.””
“Who?””
She didn't answer.
“Sarah.””
“I don't know.””
Greg looked away.
I realized something.
“You do.””
He swallowed.
“I saw the name.””
“What name?””
He hesitated.
Then he whispered it.
“Your brother.””
I stared at him.
“My brother died twelve years ago.””
“I know.””
“Then why did you say his name?””
“Because that's the name on the transfer paperwork.””
The room went silent.
Linda stepped forward.
“Someone is using a dead man's identity.””
Greg nodded.
“And whoever it is has access to the original records.””
Sarah looked at me.
“That's why I was trying to get control of the cottage first.””
“You thought you were protecting me?””
“I thought I could keep it from whoever was coming.””
I stood.
“You should have told me.””
“I was scared.””
“You lied.””
“I know.””
“You brought strangers into my house.””
“I know.””
“You tried to make people believe I couldn't think clearly.””
Tears ran down her face.
“I know.””
Then Greg's tablet chimed.
A new email appeared.
No sender.
One sentence.
*You should have listened to Sarah.*
A second line appeared.
*Now the police are coming.*
Sarah looked at me.
“Mom, you need to leave.””
Before I could answer, red and blue lights flashed across the curtains.
A knock hit the front door.
May you like
Then a voice called from outside.
“Claire Miller? Open the door.””
