Thomas read the email three times.
“Other route,” he murmured.
“What does it mean?”
“We need the rest of the correspondence.”
Jennifer looked frightened.
“I deleted some.”
Thomas looked at her.
“Deleted?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was scared.”
“Can the messages be recovered?”
“I don't know.”
Thomas asked for her phone.
She handed it over.
While he examined the available information, I sat across from my daughter.
“You knew more than you told me.”
Jennifer nodded.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“I knew Michael wanted the property.”
“That isn't enough.”
“I knew he had spoken with Pierce.”
“About selling the land.”
“Yes.”
“And the money?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know about the forged documents?”
She hesitated.
“I knew there was paperwork.”
“Did you know my signature was forged?”
“No.”
“Did you suspect?”
“Yes.”
I looked away.
She began crying.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid Michael would go to prison.”
“And you were willing to let me lose my home?”
“No.”
“But you stayed silent.”
“Yes.”
I nodded.
“That is still a choice.”
Thomas looked up from the phone.
“I recovered some deleted messages.”
Jennifer went pale.
“What do they say?”
He read the first one.
Pierce had asked Jennifer whether Margaret had been persuaded to sell.
Her reply said:
Not yet. Michael thinks the new authorization will solve it.
I stared at her.
“You knew.”
Jennifer covered her face.
“Yes.”
“Did you know it was forged?”
“I suspected it.”
I stood.
“Why?”
She lowered her hands.
“Because Michael showed me a copy.”
My chest hurt.
“You saw my signature.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I was scared.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I know.”
“Were you scared of Michael?”
“Yes.”
“Or were you scared of losing the money?”
She didn't answer.
That was an answer too.
Thomas continued searching.
Another message appeared.
Pierce had written:
If the authorization fails, proceed with the guardianship strategy.
I stared at the screen.
“Guardianship.”
Jennifer nodded.
“I didn't know what that meant.”
“You knew enough to be afraid.”
“Yes.”
Thomas's face hardened.
“They were preparing a court petition.”
“For what?”
“To have you declared incapable of managing your affairs.”
The room went silent.
I sat down.
This was the thing Richard had feared most.
Not the house.
Not the money.
Control over my ability to make decisions.
I suddenly remembered his warning.
Don't let them convince you that protecting yourself means you don't love them.
He had known they might try.
Now we knew how.
“Who was going to file it?”
Thomas searched the messages.
“There's a law firm.”
He gave me the name.
I didn't recognize it.
Jennifer did.
“That was Pierce's attorney.”
Thomas nodded.
“And there are emails between them and Frank.”
My heart sank.
Frank had given them information.
But he hadn't been the only one.
“Was Daniel involved?”
“No.”
“Elaine?”
“Possibly.”
Thomas continued.
Then he stopped.
“I found something.”
“What?”
“The guardianship petition was drafted six months before Richard died.”
I stared at him.
Six months.
Before Richard's final illness.
Before the funeral.
Before I had any idea.
“Who signed the draft?”
“No one.”
“Who requested it?”
Thomas pointed to the email.
Michael.
I closed my eyes.
“He planned this while Dad was alive.”
“Yes.”
Jennifer whispered, “I didn't know that part.”
I looked at her.
“Did you know enough?”
She began crying again.
“Yes.”
Thomas turned the laptop toward me.
There was another message.
This one from Pierce to Michael.
Richard is the obstacle. Once he is gone, Margaret will be easier to influence.
I felt something inside me crack.
Not because I had doubted Richard.
Because I finally understood why he had become so secretive during his final months.
He hadn't been distant from me.
He had been trying to protect me.
“Thomas.”
“Yes?”
“Did Richard know about the guardianship petition?”
“I believe so.”
“How?”
“There's a copy in his files.”
Thomas opened another folder.
There it was.
The draft.
Richard had written across the top:
DO NOT LET MAGGIE SEE THIS UNLESS NECESSARY.
I stared at the words.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“Maybe he wanted to spare you.”
I shook my head.
“He always tried to spare me.”
I touched the page.
“Too much.”
Jennifer whispered, “Mom.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Yes.”
“I think Dad knew who was behind everything.”
My heart stopped.
“What do you mean?”
“Before he died, he told me he had found out who was helping Michael.”
“Who?”
“He wouldn't say.”
“Why?”
“He asked me whether I trusted everyone who worked for him.”
I remembered Richard's note.
There is one person they are listening to.
I stared at Jennifer.
“Did he mention a name?”
“No.”
“Did he mention Frank?”
“No.”
“Elaine?”
“No.”
“Thomas?”
She shook her head.
“He said the person was someone I would never suspect.”
I felt a chill.
Thomas looked at me.
“What else?”
Jennifer closed her eyes.
“He said the person had been close to our family for years.”
I thought of everyone.
Neighbors.
Friends.
Employees.
Advisers.
Family acquaintances.
Someone who knew our routines.
Someone who could access documents.
Someone Richard trusted.
Someone my children listened to.
Then I remembered the photograph.
Richard and Elaine outside the office.
Frank's confession.
Daniel's fear.
The unknown man from the private club.
None of them fit perfectly.
Thomas received a call.
He stepped away.
When he returned, his face was grim.
“The developer's attorney filed a notice.”
“What kind?”
“They're claiming a contract existed between Michael and Pierce regarding the property.”
“Can they enforce it?”
“Not against you, probably.”
“Probably?”
“The contract may contain enough information to create a legal mess.”
I looked at Jennifer.
“Where is Michael?”
“I don't know.”
I called him.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
His phone went directly to voicemail.
Thomas checked the address on file.
“He's not at home.”
“Where is he?”
“We'll find him.”
That evening, I received a call from an unfamiliar number.
A woman's voice spoke.
“Mrs. Harris?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Claire Morgan. I'm an attorney.”
“What do you want?”
“I represent someone who worked with your husband.”
“Who?”
She hesitated.
“I'm not authorized to tell you yet.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“Because my client has information about the guardianship plan.”
My heart raced.
“Who is your client?”
“I can meet you tomorrow.”
“Tell me the name.”
“I can't.”
“Then don't call again.”
She sighed.
“Mrs. Harris, your husband anticipated that you might eventually need this information.”
I froze.
“What did you say?”
“He left instructions with my client.”
“Who?”
“Someone who knew what your children were planning.”
I looked at Thomas.
He was watching me.
“Where do we meet?”
She gave me an address.
After the call ended, Thomas said, “We shouldn't go alone.”
“I know.”
The next morning, we arrived at a small office downtown.
Claire Morgan was waiting.
She was younger than I expected.
She opened a file.
“My client is not involved in the scheme.”
“Who is your client?”
She looked at me.
“Your husband's former business partner.”
I frowned.
“Robert Hale?”
She nodded.
Richard had known Robert for thirty years.
They had built their first company together.
Robert had left years earlier.
I hadn't spoken to him since Richard's funeral.
“What does he know?”
Claire slid a letter across the table.
“Your husband contacted him shortly before his death.”
I opened it.
Richard's handwriting.
Robert,
If Maggie ever learns about the guardianship plan, tell her not to trust the person who claims to be protecting her.
My hands went cold.
I read the next line.
The person behind this has access to everything because I gave him that access myself.
I stopped.
Thomas leaned closer.
“What does the next page say?”
I turned it.
There was only one sentence.
I made the mistake of trusting him because I thought he was family.
I stared at the words.
Then I looked at Thomas.
Neither of us spoke.
Because suddenly, one possibility stood above all the others.
Richard had said family.
And there was one person who had always been treated like family without actually being one.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: Richard’s Last Letter Pointed Toward Someone We Had Always Treated Like Family, and the Answer Was Hidden in a Decision Made Years Before His Death
The Night I Realized My Children Had Stopped Seeing Me as Their Mother and Started Seeing Me as Someone They Would Eventually Inherit From
Part 11 of 20
