Chapter 11: The Daughter Who Knew Too Much
Brittany refused to speak until Dad agreed to meet her without the investigators present.
Richard was already being questioned, and the officers had recovered several financial documents from his vehicle.
But the envelope remained in Brittany's possession.
Dad agreed to sit with her in a private interview room at the sheriff's office, with an investigator nearby.
I sat beside him.
Brittany entered wearing yesterday's clothes. Her mascara had run, and her hands were trembling.
She placed the envelope on the table.
"I didn't know it would get this bad.""
Dad looked at her.
"How long have you known?""
She stared at the envelope.
"About the money? Since Mom married you.""
"Your mother told you?""
Brittany nodded.
"She said Emily had an inheritance. She said it was supposed to be shared eventually.""
I frowned.
"Why would you believe that?""
"Because she showed me paperwork.""
Dad leaned forward.
"What paperwork?""
"An amendment. It said I was entitled to half the trust.""
Richard had already told us the amendment was questionable.
Brittany continued.
"Mom said your signature was on it. She said everything was legal.""
Dad's voice became quiet.
"You knew she was taking money?""
Brittany looked down.
"I knew she bought things. I knew about the Mercedes. I thought you were paying for them.""
"You knew Emily was sleeping in the garage.""
Brittany began crying.
"Yes.""
I stared at her.
"Why didn't you help me?""
She wiped her cheeks.
"Mom said you were doing it to punish Dad. She told me you had agreed to move.""
"She took my phone.""
"I know.""
"She refused to let me eat with you.""
Brittany covered her face.
"I know.""
I leaned forward.
"Then why did you laugh?""
She lowered her hands.
For a moment, she looked like the nineteen-year-old girl who had stood in my bedroom carrying my clothes.
"Because Mom said if I acted like I felt sorry for you, she'd take everything away from me.""
I stared at her.
"You're nineteen. You could have called someone.""
"I was scared.""
"So was I.""
The room fell silent.
Dad opened the envelope.
Inside were several old letters and a photocopy of a document dated shortly before my mother's death.
The heading read:
*STATEMENT OF INTENT — LAURA CARTER.*
Richard had mentioned that my mother prepared additional instructions, but this document had never appeared in the original estate file.
Dad read the first paragraph.
His hands began shaking.
"What's wrong?"" I asked.
He looked at me.
"Your mother wanted to change something in the trust.""
"What?""
He passed the document to Richard's replacement attorney, who had arrived to review the evidence.
She examined it carefully.
"This appears to be a draft amendment.""
"Was it ever signed?"" Dad asked.
The attorney shook her head.
"No. But the instructions are significant.""
She read aloud.
I want Emily to inherit the assets established by Daniel. However, I also want Michael to remain protected. He must never be held financially responsible for decisions made by my sister or anyone acting on her behalf.
Dad looked confused.
"Why would Laura think I needed protection?""
The attorney turned the page.
There was a second paragraph.
If anything happens to me before Emily turns eighteen, the guardian of my daughter must be someone who has no financial interest in her inheritance.
Dad's face tightened.
"Rebecca.""
The attorney nodded.
"Rebecca was listed as a potential temporary guardian in an earlier draft, but this later document appears to revoke that possibility.""
I looked at Brittany.
"Why did you have this?""
She shook her head.
"Richard gave it to me yesterday. He said if I handed it over, he would make sure I wasn't charged with anything.""
Dad stared at her.
"Did you steal it?""
"No. He gave it to me.""
"Why?""
Brittany hesitated.
"Because he wanted me to destroy it.""
The investigator standing near the door stepped forward.
"Did he tell you that directly?""
She nodded.
"He said it proved Vanessa and Rebecca had known about the money before Dad married Mom.""
Dad looked stunned.
"Before I married Vanessa?""
Brittany nodded again.
"Mom said she met Rebecca at a hotel in Dallas. They had been planning everything for months.""
I felt sick.
My stepmother hadn't simply discovered the inheritance after marrying Dad.
She had entered our family with a plan.
The attorney placed the document back inside the envelope.
"There's something else. This statement references a recording.""
Dad frowned.
"What recording?""
Brittany reached into her purse.
She removed a small USB drive.
"Richard told me to get rid of this too.""
The investigator immediately took possession of it.
"We'll have it examined.""
Brittany leaned toward Dad.
"There's something you need to know about Mom.""
He looked at her.
"What?""
"She wasn't planning to stay married to you.""
Dad's expression became blank.
"What are you talking about?""
"She said once Emily turned eighteen, she would file for divorce, take the money, and move away with me.""
I stared at her.
"Then why did she marry him?""
Brittany swallowed.
"Because she needed access to the accounts.""
Dad stood.
"She used my marriage to steal from my daughter.""
Brittany nodded.
Then she whispered something else.
"There's one more thing. Mom told me that Rebecca wasn't actually the person who started this.""
Dad slowly turned around.
"Who did?""
Brittany looked directly at him.
"Grandma.""
My father's mother had died when I was nine.
I remembered her as a quiet woman who brought homemade cookies and always kept a photograph of Daniel on her mantel.
"Your grandmother?"" I asked.
Brittany nodded.
"Mom said she helped Rebecca hide Daniel's money years ago. She said the whole family knew about the account.""
Dad shook his head.
"That's impossible. My mother never knew about those business dealings.""
Brittany looked down.
"Then why did she leave Rebecca the original documents?""
Dad went completely still.
The attorney picked up the envelope again and examined its contents.
A small folded paper slipped out.
It contained an address and a date.
The date was three days before my grandmother died.
The address belonged to a bank vault in downtown Atlanta.
May you like
And beneath it, in my mother's handwriting, were the words:
*The final proof is waiting where the family secrets began.*
