Chapter 7
Victoria was arrested that night.
Charged with attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and witness intimidation.
The police found the hitman’s phone number in her call logs.
Found the text messages where she’d agreed to pay him fifty thousand dollars to kill Harold.
She was denied bail.
Locked up in the county jail, awaiting trial.
The next morning, we went back to the bank.
Harold with us.
His affidavit in hand.
The manager apologized profusely.
Led us down to the vault himself.
The safety deposit box was small.
Metal.
Cold.
My hands were shaking as I put the key in the lock.
Turned it.
The door clicked open.
Inside were three things.
A thick manila envelope.
A USB drive.
And a letter.
Addressed to me.
In my mom’s handwriting.
I picked up the letter first.
Sat down on the small bench in the vault, my hands shaking so bad I could barely open it.
My dearest Lila,
If you’re reading this, I’m gone.
And I’m so, so sorry.
I tried so hard to stay.
To watch you graduate.
To walk you down the aisle.
To meet your babies.
But Victoria Hale is a monster.
And she won’t let me live with what I know.
Inside this box is everything.
Every record.
Every email.
A video I took of her admitting to the embezzlement, admitting she’d do anything to keep it quiet.
Enough to put her away for the rest of her life.
Don’t be scared, baby.
You are stronger than you know.
Stronger than she will ever be.
Fight for me.
Fight for the families she hurt.
And when it’s over…
Live.
Live a good life.
A happy life.
Full of love.
That’s all I ever wanted for you.
I love you.
Forever and always.
Mom
I cried then.
Great, heaving sobs.
Ethan sat down next to me, wrapped his arms around me, and cried with me.
Harold stood by the door, his head bowed, silent tears running down his face.
When I could breathe again, I opened the envelope.
Inside were the full, unredacted financial records.
Every dollar stolen.
Every family scammed.
Every bribe paid.
And the USB drive.
We plugged it into a laptop at the police station later that day.
It was a video.
Taken in Victoria’s office, twenty years ago.
She was sitting behind her desk, talking to Harold.
Saying she didn’t care if the families on Maple Street lost their homes.
Saying the money was hers.
Saying if Eleanor Carter talked, she’d kill her with her own two hands.
It was irrefutable.
The DA pressed additional charges that day.
Twenty counts of fraud.
One count of manslaughter for my mom’s death.
The story broke the next morning.
Front page of every newspaper in the city.
“Socialite Arrested for Embezzlement, Murder Cover-Up.”
The families from the Maple Street project came forward by the dozens.
Telling their stories.
Of being evicted.
Of losing their life savings.
Of being threatened when they tried to complain.
Victoria’s rich friends abandoned her overnight.
Her name was removed from every charity board, every museum plaque, every building she’d donated money to.
The Hale Development company collapsed.
All its assets frozen, set to be sold to pay back the victims.
Ethan got a job at a small construction firm a week later.
Hard work.
Long hours.
Minimum wage.
But he came home every night smiling.
Proud of the work he was doing.
Proud that he was helping to rebuild the homes his parents had destroyed.
Harold pleaded guilty to all charges against him.
Testified against Victoria in exchange for immunity.
Agreed to give every penny he had left to the restitution fund.
He moved into a small apartment down the street from us.
Got a job at the same construction firm as Ethan.
Swinging a hammer, just like the rest of the crew.
Saying it was the only way he could make amends.
The trial was set for three months later.
May you like
And for the first time since the wedding.
I allowed myself to hope.
