Chapter 10: The Woman We Had All Trusted
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the sound of my own heartbeat.
My uncle had just accused my grandmother of ordering my father's murder.
And Margaret Whitmore was sitting inside a black SUV, watching us as though she had been waiting years for this exact moment.
"Robert," my mother whispered.
"Take that back.""
He shook his head.
"I wish I could.""
Richard stepped toward the vehicle.
"Margaret, get out of the car.""
She lowered her phone.
"Mr. Collins, I suggest you be careful about the accusations you make.""
"Your presence here is already suspicious.""
Margaret laughed softly.
"Suspicious? I'm here because I received a message from Robert. He said he had something important to discuss.""
Robert looked horrified.
"I never contacted you.""
Margaret's smile disappeared.
Then she turned toward him.
"Really? Shall I show everyone the messages?""
She lifted her phone.
My mother stepped forward.
"Why did you do this to our family?""
Margaret looked at her with something resembling pity.
"Your family destroyed itself long before I became involved.""
I clenched my fists.
"You stole from my father.""
"Your father made terrible business decisions.""
"He discovered the fraud.""
Margaret's expression changed.
Just slightly.
But enough.
I continued.
"And you were afraid he would expose you.""
She opened the car door and stepped out.
Her expensive heels touched the asphalt.
"Emily, you have been listening to people who know nothing about what happened.""
"I've seen the documents.""
"Documents can be altered.""
"I've seen the bank records.""
"Records can be manipulated.""
"I've seen the photograph of you standing with my father six months after he supposedly lost everything.""
Margaret's smile vanished.
For the first time, she looked genuinely uncomfortable.
Richard stepped closer.
"That photograph is being preserved as evidence. I strongly advise you not to leave.""
Margaret glanced toward him.
"You're still protecting Eleanor's mistakes, Richard. How loyal of you.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"What mistakes?""
She looked at me.
"Your grandmother was not the innocent old woman you remember.""
My mother shook her head.
"Don't you dare.""
Margaret ignored her.
"Your grandmother had a talent for making people believe she was protecting them. In reality, she controlled everything. Your father's business.
Your mother's life. Even your future.""
"You're lying," I said.
Margaret smiled.
"Ask your uncle.""
Robert looked down.
I turned toward him.
"Is it true?""
He rubbed his face.
"There's something I never told you.""
"Then tell me now.""
He looked at Margaret.
"Your grandmother discovered that Victor and Margaret had been moving money through the company. But she also discovered that your father had secretly moved a portion of the assets into another account.""
"The Boston account," I said.
Robert nodded.
"Yes. Eleanor knew about it.""
Margaret crossed her arms.
"Of course she did.""
Robert continued.
"Your grandmother wanted your father to turn over the account information. She believed it was the only way to recover the stolen money.""
I frowned.
"Why wouldn't Dad cooperate?""
"Because he didn't trust her anymore.""
My mother stared at him.
"Why?""
Robert swallowed.
"Because Eleanor had made a private agreement with Margaret years earlier.""
The parking lot fell silent.
"What agreement?"" I asked.
Robert looked toward the black SUV.
Margaret's expression had become unreadable.
"Your grandmother agreed to let Margaret purchase a controlling interest in one of the family properties," Robert said.
"In exchange, Margaret would stop pursuing the rest of the estate.""
My mother shook her head.
"That makes no sense.""
"It was supposed to be a settlement. But your father refused to sign.""
Margaret laughed.
"Your father was stubborn. He thought he could defeat everyone by keeping secrets.""
I looked at her.
"Did you kill him?""
Her face hardened.
"Be careful, Emily.""
"Did you?""
Margaret stepped closer.
"You have no idea what your father did.""
"Then explain it.""
She looked at my mother.
"Your husband wasn't the man you think he was.""
My mother slapped her.
The sound cracked across the parking lot.
Margaret stumbled backward, one hand flying to her cheek.
"Don't ever speak about him again," my mother said.
Richard immediately moved between them.
Margaret adjusted her coat.
Then she looked at Robert.
"You have made a serious mistake.""
Robert's voice shook.
"You're the one who made it.""
She turned toward her car.
Richard raised his phone.
"Margaret, the authorities are on their way.""
She stopped.
For a moment, I thought she might run.
Instead, she smiled.
"Then perhaps you should ask them to investigate the person who actually benefited from Eleanor's death.""
She got into the SUV.
The vehicle pulled away before Richard could stop her.
I turned toward Robert.
"What did she mean?""
He looked exhausted.
"Your grandmother's death wasn't natural.""
My throat tightened.
"Explain.""
Robert opened the black briefcase.
Inside was a small medical report and a series of handwritten notes.
"Your grandmother had been receiving medication from a private physician. Shortly before she died, she told me she suspected someone had been changing her prescriptions.""
My mother covered her mouth.
"Why didn't you tell us?""
"Because I didn't know who to trust.""
Richard took the report.
"Who was her physician?""
Robert pointed to a name.
Dr. Samuel Whitmore.
Margaret's brother.
I felt my knees weaken.
"Her doctor was Margaret's brother?""
Robert nodded.
"He had been treating her for several years.""
Richard examined the report.
"This needs immediate verification.""
I looked toward the road where Margaret's car had disappeared.
For years, I had believed my grandmother died peacefully in her sleep.
Now I was beginning to wonder whether she had been silenced.
My phone rang.
An unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice spoke quietly.
"Emily Carter?""
"Who is this?""
"My name is Dr. Samuel Whitmore.""
My blood ran cold.
"Why are you calling me?""
There was a long pause.
Then he said:
"Because your grandmother left something in my office. Something that could prove what happened to your father.""
I gripped the phone.
"What?""
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"And something that could prove I helped Margaret hide it.""
The call ended.
I looked at Richard.
He had heard every word.
Then he said:
"We're going to need more than a lawyer.""
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And for the first time, I realized this was no longer just a fight over money.
It was a fight over the truth about two deaths.
