Chapter 17 - THE CHAPEL|
The family chapel stood at the far end of the property, beyond the copper beech and the old stone wall.
It had been built by my great-grandfather and used for weddings, memorial services, and private family ceremonies. The door was usually locked.
Daniel arrived with the property manager and a locksmith.
We entered just after sunrise.
Dust floated through the colored glass windows. The pews were covered with white sheets, and a small wooden altar stood beneath a carved cross.
I searched the cabinets.
Daniel checked the storage room.
The property manager examined the floor.
Then I noticed a loose panel behind the altar.
Inside was a metal case.
The key was taped to the underside.
I opened it.
There were three folders, a flash drive, and a sealed envelope addressed to Ethan.
The first folder contained the original land-transfer documents.
The second contained copies of the forged trust papers.
The third held photographs and handwritten notes about my mother's medical appointments.
I felt sick.
There were dates, prescriptions, and payments to a clinic that had no licensed physician on record.
Daniel read the documents.
"This is enough to trigger a criminal investigation."
I opened the envelope.
It contained a letter from Margaret to Ethan.
You will not let Naomi destroy what we built. If she refuses to step aside, you will use the medical records. Her mother was already unstable, and no one will question the story if you present it properly.
I read the sentence again.
The implication was clear.
Margaret had planned to use my mother's illness to discredit me.
But the letter was dated three weeks before my mother's death.
I sat down.
Daniel placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Naomi."
I couldn't speak.
For years, I had wondered whether I had missed a final chance to speak with my mother. Whether I should have called more often. Whether I had been too busy with work.
Now I understood that someone had deliberately kept us apart.
I wiped my eyes.
"Send everything to the investigators."
Daniel nodded.
"And the letter to Ethan?"
"Preserve it."
A noise came from outside.
The property manager looked toward the door.
"Someone's here."
A black car had stopped near the chapel.
Margaret stepped out.
She was carrying a handbag and wearing a pale coat.
When she saw us, she froze.
Then her gaze moved to the open case.
"You had no right to enter."
I stood.
"These documents belong to the estate."
"They're private."
"Not when they concern stolen property and forged records."
She stepped inside.
"You don't understand what you're doing."
"I understand exactly what you did."
Her face hardened.
"You think your mother was innocent? You think your father was some kind of saint?"
"I think they trusted the wrong person."
Margaret looked at the letter in my hand.
Then she lunged toward it.
Daniel stepped between us.
"Don't."
She stopped.
For a moment, the woman who had controlled every room she entered looked very small.
Then she whispered:
"Your mother asked me to help her."
I stared at her.
"Help her with what?"
Margaret's eyes filled.
"She was afraid of what Gerald had discovered. She knew he was going to expose everyone."
"Everyone?"
May you like
She looked toward the open case.
"Not just me."
