Chapter 4
Ryan stared at the pharmacy bag.
I grabbed my purse before he could move.
“How do you know what’s in there?”
“I don’t.”
“You were looking directly at it.”
“Emma, I saw the logo.”
“That tells you nothing.”
He stood.
“Have you been feeling sick?”
My skin prickled.
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because you’ve been tired.”
“You’ve barely noticed me for three months.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair?”
I almost laughed.
“Your mother attacked me because she thinks I might cost her two million dollars, and you want to talk about fair?”
Officer Hernandez knocked again.
“Mrs. Carter?”
I opened the door.
“Yes?”
“We’re going to clear the scene. Do you have somewhere safe to stay tonight?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t.
But I would find somewhere.
Ryan stepped beside me.
“She can stay here. My mother left.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
The officer gave me a card.
“Case number is written here. If you decide you want medical evaluation, please go tonight. And if there’s further contact or threats, document everything.”
“I will.”
She glanced at Ryan.
“Do not interfere with her leaving.”
Ryan nodded.
“I won’t.”
The officers left.
Their cars disappeared down the street.
The moment the taillights vanished, Ryan turned to me.
“Take the test.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“The pregnancy test.”
“No.”
“Emma, we need to know.”
“We?”
“Yes, we.”
“There is no we right now.”
His face tightened.
“I’m still your husband.”
“And apparently my financial competitor.”
“That is not what this is.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From money?”
“From my family.”
“You moved me into your mother’s house!”
He winced.
I grabbed the suitcase.
Ryan stepped into my path.
“Where will you go?”
“A hotel.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
“I’m not sleeping under this roof.”
“Mom won’t come back tonight.”
“That’s not enough.”
“What do you want from me?”
“The truth.”
“I’ve told you.”
“No. You’ve told me pieces after I caught you.”
That landed.
He looked down.
I moved past him.
Then the garage door began opening.
Ryan and I both turned.
His face went white.
“Did she come back?”
The internal garage door opened.
But it wasn’t Linda.
A tall man in his early sixties stepped inside.
Gray hair.
Dark coat.
A scar near his left eyebrow.
Ryan went rigid.
“Uncle David.”
David Mercer closed the door behind him.
“You look surprised.”
Ryan’s voice hardened.
“What are you doing here?”
“Stopping your mother from ruining another life.”
He looked at me.
“You must be Emma.”
“You texted Linda.”
“Yes.”
“She told me you were dead.”
David gave a humorless smile.
“I’m aware.”
Ryan stepped between us.
“Get out.”
David didn’t move.
“You might want to hear what I have before you throw me out.”
“I said leave.”
“And I’m saying your wife is about to lose a fortune because your mother has been forging documents for four years.”
Ryan froze.
I stared at David.
“What documents?”
David pulled a folder from inside his coat.
“Trust amendments.”
Ryan shook his head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Grandpa’s attorney handled everything.”
“The original attorney did.”
David opened the folder.
“Until six months before Walter died.”
I looked at the papers.
The pages were full of signatures, dates, legal language.
I understood almost none of it.
David pointed to one signature.
“This is supposedly Walter’s.”
“So?”
“He didn’t sign it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because on the date this document was executed, Walter was in Northwestern Memorial after a stroke.”
Ryan’s expression changed.
“He could still sign things.”
“No.”
David flipped to another page.
“His right hand was paralyzed.”
I looked at the signature.
It was clean.
Smooth.
Confident.
David continued.
“Your mother used a different attorney to prepare amendments that gave her more control over distributions.”
Ryan shook his head.
“You hate her. You’ll say anything.”
“I hate what she did.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
David looked at him.
“I loved my father.”
Silence.
“And when I challenged those amendments, Linda told everyone I tried to steal from him.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed.
“You did.”
“She told you that.”
“There was a lawsuit.”
“There was a petition for an accounting.”
“What’s the difference?”
“The difference is I was asking where the money went.”
My stomach tightened.
“What money?”
David looked at me.
“Almost eight hundred thousand dollars.”
Ryan stepped closer.
“Stop.”
“Why?”
“Because none of this has anything to do with Emma.”
“It has everything to do with Emma.”
David turned toward me.
“Six weeks from now, you become a protected beneficiary. Linda knows that. She cannot remove you after the fifth anniversary without proving fraud, abandonment, or serious misconduct.”
My mouth went dry.
“So she wanted evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Evidence that I’m violent.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Ryan.
He shook his head.
“I didn’t know that.”
David’s expression was cold.
“You knew enough to turn off the camera.”
“Because she asked me to.”
“You’re thirty-seven years old.”
Ryan lunged forward.
I stepped between them.
“Stop.”
Ryan pointed at David.
“You don’t get to show up after twelve years and act like you care.”
David’s jaw flexed.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for six months.”
“You could have called.”
“I did.”
Ryan frowned.
“I never got anything.”
David looked at me.
Then at the smart-home panel.
“Your mother controls more than the cameras.”
Ryan stared at him.
David took out his phone.
He opened his sent messages.
There were dozens.
Emails.
Texts.
Some addressed to Ryan.
Some to me.
I had never seen any of them.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Messages I sent.”
“You never texted me.”
“I did.”
He showed me my number.
Correct.
Then another number beneath it.
A forwarding service.
I frowned.
David explained.
“Your phones are on Linda’s family plan, aren’t they?”
Ryan looked uncomfortable.
“Yes.”
“She had account-level filtering added.”
“That doesn’t let her block individual people.”
“It does if she uses parental control software connected to the carrier account.”
I looked at Ryan.
“Your mother has parental controls on our phones?”
“I didn’t know.”
David laughed bitterly.
“That seems to be your favorite sentence.”
Ryan moved toward him again.
“Watch it.”
“Both of you, stop!”
My voice echoed through the house.
They stopped.
I looked at David.
“Why did you come now?”
“Because Linda’s attorney contacted the trustee yesterday.”
My stomach dropped.
“About me?”
“Yes.”
“What did they say?”
“They claimed you had become unstable and abusive.”
I stared at him.
“Yesterday?”
Before the bucket.
Before I dumped the water.
Before any of this happened.
David nodded.
“They said an incident was expected.”
Expected.
My knees felt weak.
Linda had not simply taken advantage of a fight.
She had planned one.
“What kind of incident?”
“They didn’t specify.”
Ryan looked sick.
David handed me another page.
It was an email.
I read the first paragraph.
Subject: Emma Carter Conduct Documentation.
The date was Friday.
Yesterday.
Linda’s attorney wrote that Linda feared for her physical safety because my behavior had become “increasingly volatile.”
Attached were notes documenting supposed incidents over the last six weeks.
April 8: Emma screamed and threw a plate.
Never happened.
April 17: Emma threatened Linda.
Never happened.
May 2: Emma intentionally damaged a bedroom door.
Never happened.
May 14: Emma shoved Linda during an argument.
Never happened.
There were photographs.
A broken plate.
A damaged door.
A bruise on Linda’s arm.
I felt nauseated.
“She fabricated all of this.”
David nodded.
“Can we prove it?”
“Maybe.”
Ryan snatched the page.
“Where did you get this?”
“The trustee forwarded it to me because I’m a co-beneficiary.”
“Why would Mom do this?”
David looked at him like he could barely believe the question.
“For money.”
“My mother has money.”
“Not anymore.”
Ryan went silent.
David dropped the next bomb.
“She’s broke.”
I stared at him.
“This house…”
“Belongs to the trust.”
“The Mercedes?”
“Leased.”
“Her investments?”
“Mostly gone.”
Ryan shook his head.
“No.”
“She has debt against everything she personally owns.”
“How much?”
“At least one-point-four million.”
Ryan stumbled backward and sat on the couch.
I felt almost sorry for him.
Almost.
“Where did it go?” I asked.
David hesitated.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to find out.”
Ryan looked at him.
“You’re lying.”
David took out another document.
“Your grandfather’s investment account was worth roughly seven-point-two million when he died.”
He placed another sheet beside it.
“After four years of Linda acting as financial manager, one-point-one million was missing.”
“That doesn’t prove she stole it.”
“No.”
David looked at me.
“But this might.”
He pulled out a photograph.
Linda stood outside a casino.
Next to a man I had never seen.
His hand rested on her lower back.
The timestamp showed three months earlier.
Ryan stared at it.
“Who is that?”
David answered quietly.
“His name is Victor Hale.”
“So?”
“So Victor is why your mother needed Emma out before the trust audit.”
“What does Emma have to do with an audit?”
David looked directly at me.
“Because when your beneficiary rights become permanent, you gain the right to demand one.”
Ryan stood sharply.
“What?”
David nodded.
“Your grandfather built that clause deliberately.”
I looked at the photo again.
Linda.
Victor.
Casino entrance.
“This is bigger than two million dollars.”
“Yes.”
“How much bigger?”
Before David answered, the front door opened.
We all turned.
Linda stood there.
She wasn’t alone.
A man in an expensive navy suit stood beside her.
I recognized him from the photograph.
Victor Hale.
Linda looked at David.
Then at the papers on the table.
Her face became terrifyingly calm.
“Ryan,” she said, “call the police.”
David didn’t move.
Linda pointed at him.
“That man has been stalking me for years.”
Then Victor looked at me and smiled.
“And Emma,” he said, “I strongly suggest you put down documents that were stolen from a confidential legal file.”
I stared at him.
“You’re the attorney?”
His smile widened.
“Yes.”
May you like
The man Linda was secretly meeting at casinos was also her lawyer.
And suddenly I knew the attack with the mop bucket was only the smallest part of what they had planned.
