Chapter 3
The video was shaky, shot from a phone hidden in a bookshelf in this very study.
Dad was in his leather chair, thinner than I remembered, his hands trembling as he held a stack of medical bills.
Ethan was leaning over the desk, his face red with rage.
“Change the will,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Or we make sure your little heart condition gets a lot worse before anyone notices.”
Carol stood beside him, her arms crossed, a cold smile on her face.
“Your daughter’s so busy with her fancy job in New York,” she said. “She won’t even know what happened until it’s too late.”
I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.
Dad’s doctor had said his heart attack was sudden, unexpected, brought on by old age and high blood pressure.
The video cut off, and the next file popped up: a toxicology report, dated two days after dad’s funeral, marked UNOFFICIAL.
High levels of a drug used to slow heart function, levels that couldn’t have been accidental.
I leaned forward, my hands shaking so hard I could barely scroll.
Ethan and Carol hadn’t just tried to steal my inheritance.
They’d killed my dad.
I called Agent Miller before I could think twice, my voice cracking as I told her about the USB drive, about the video, about the toxicology report.
She was at the mansion in twenty minutes, two more agents in tow, their faces grim as they watched the video.
“We’ll exhume the body,” she said, her voice tight. “We’ll run every test there is. If this is real, they’re never getting out of prison.”
She left with the USB drive, promising to call the second they had results, and I sank back into dad’s chair, my whole body numb.
I drove to Mr. Hale’s office an hour later, my hands still gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles were white.
He met me at the door, his face lined with worry, and led me into his private conference room.
On the table in front of me was a thick envelope, sealed with wax, my name written across the front in dad’s bold slanted script.
“He left this for you the week before he died,” Mr. Hale said, pushing it across the table. “Said to only give it to you if Ethan and Carol tried something.”
I tore the envelope open with shaking fingers.
Inside was a letter, in dad’s handwriting, and a second will, dated two days before the first one I’d seen.
The letter was short, his words wobbly like he’d been having trouble holding the pen.
My dearest Lila,
If you’re reading this, I’m gone, and those two vultures tried to take what’s yours.
I knew what they were planning. I didn’t say anything because I wanted you to be safe, wanted you to have proof they couldn’t talk their way out of.
The second will leaves everything to you, same as the first—but it also has a clause. If anything happens to me under suspicious circumstances, every last cent of my estate goes to the children’s hospital we used to volunteer at, unless Ethan and Carol are convicted.
I knew you’d be smart enough to catch them. I knew you’d make them pay.
I’m so proud of you. Always.
Love,
Dad
I cried through the whole letter, my tears blurring the words, Mr. Hale quietly leaving the room to give me space.
By the time I left his office, the sun was going down, the sky streaked purple and orange.
I was pulling into the mansion’s driveway when my phone buzzed, a text from an unknown number.
You think you won? We have friends. You’ll regret this.
May you like
I stared at the screen, my heart hammering in my chest, and realized then that this wasn’t over.
Not even close.
