PART6

“No. He was never the owner. But the lawyer believes someone may have tried to use his position as the person who coordinated the purchase to make the change appear legitimate.”

I looked at the paperwork.

“Did it work?”

“No. The property management office requested additional verification because your name was on the ownership documents.”

I exhaled.

At least one person had questioned what was happening.

But Margaret wasn’t finished.

“The lawyer also wants to examine the letters sent to me while I was overseas.”

“Why?”

“Because one of them contains a statement that may be important.”

She handed me her phone.

It was a scanned copy of a letter supposedly written by me.

I read the first paragraph.

Then the second.

My eyes stopped at one sentence.

I understand that Aunt Margaret intended the apartment to be a gift for me, but I have decided that Emma should enjoy it instead because she has greater financial needs.

I stared at the screen.

I had never written those words.

I had never said anything like them.

And suddenly I understood why Margaret had been so angry at Christmas dinner.

They hadn’t simply taken my apartment.

They had created an entire story in which I had willingly given it away.

They had made me appear generous so that nobody would question why Emma was living there.

I looked at Margaret.

“Who sent this?”

“Your father.”

I sat down slowly.

“Why would he put those words in my mouth?”

Margaret’s answer was quiet.

“Because he wanted me to believe you had made the decision yourself.”

I looked at the letter again.

Then I noticed something at the bottom.

A small line of text appeared beneath my supposed signature.

Prepared with assistance from Linda Carter.

My blood ran cold.

I read it twice.

Then a third time.

“Margaret.”

She leaned closer.

“What is it?”

I pointed to the sentence.

She read it.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she whispered:

“Well, that explains something.”

“What?”

“Your stepmother may have been more involved than your father admitted.”

I looked toward the kitchen, where Danny was happily eating the last of his pancakes.

I didn’t want him to hear any more of this.

I stood up and carried his plate to the sink.

Then my phone buzzed.

A message from Emma.

I hadn’t heard from her since Christmas dinner.

I opened it.

Lydia, please don’t make this worse. I need to talk to you. There’s something Mom hasn’t told Dad, and I think you deserve to know.

I read the message again.

Then another message appeared.

I have proof. But you need to promise you won’t tell Mom I contacted you.

I looked at Margaret.

She noticed my expression immediately.

“What happened?”

I turned the phone toward her.

She read the messages.

Her face became serious.

“Don’t answer too quickly.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t know whether Emma is finally telling the truth or simply trying to protect herself.”

I stared at the screen.

A moment later, another message arrived.

This one contained a photograph.

It showed a printed document lying on what looked like Linda’s bedroom desk.

I enlarged the image.

At the top was a familiar heading.

POWER OF ATTORNEY AND PROPERTY MANAGEMENT AUTHORIZATION.

But beneath it was something I hadn’t expected.

My full name.

My father’s full name.

And Linda’s signature.

I felt the room begin to spin.

Because this document wasn’t dated two months ago.

It was dated three weeks before Aunt Margaret had even purchased the apartment.

I looked at Margaret.

“Why would Linda sign something before the apartment was even bought?”

Margaret took the phone from my hand and studied the photograph.

Her expression changed completely.

Then she looked at me.

“Lydia, I think we need to find out what your stepmother was planning before I ever told your father about this apartment.”

Before I could respond, my phone rang.

Emma.

I answered.

Her voice was barely recognizable.

She was crying.

“Lydia, please. I know you hate me right now, but I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Emma?”

She took a shaky breath.

“Mom didn’t just give me your apartment.”

I gripped the edge of the counter.

“What are you talking about?”

There was a pause.

Then Emma whispered something that made Margaret immediately stand up.

“Mom told me the apartment was only the beginning.”

My heart started pounding.

“What beginning?”

Emma lowered her voice.

“She said Aunt Margaret had more money, more properties, and that once we got you to sign the right documents, everything would eventually come to me.”

I couldn’t speak.

Then Emma said the words I would remember for a very long time.

“Mom has been planning this since before Aunt Margaret came back from Europe.”

The call suddenly disconnected.

I stared at my phone.

And for the first time since Christmas dinner, I realized something terrifying.

The apartment wasn’t the whole story.

It was only the first thing they had taken.

For several seconds after Emma’s phone call disconnected, I couldn’t move.

I stood in the kitchen with my phone pressed against my ear, listening to the silence.

Mom has been planning this since before Aunt Margaret came back from Europe.

Those words kept repeating in my mind.

I turned toward Margaret.

“Did you hear what she said?”

Margaret nodded.

“Every word.”

“What does she mean by everything eventually coming to her?”

My aunt slowly closed the folder she had been holding.

“Lydia, I have never told your father or Linda the full details of my financial affairs. They know I own properties and have investments, but they don’t know everything.”

“Why would Linda want those things?”

Margaret looked at me.

“Because some people see another person’s kindness as an opportunity.”

I felt sick.

My aunt had survived breast cancer. She had spent months fighting for her life, and while she was doing that, I had watched my father barely make an effort to visit her.

Now I was beginning to understand why Margaret had been so careful about certain things.

She wasn’t simply a wealthy woman who enjoyed giving gifts.

She had built her financial security over decades.

She had purchased properties, invested in businesses, and managed her money carefully.

And apparently, someone in my family had decided that her generosity made her an easy target.

“Should we call Emma?” I asked.

“Not yet. Let’s speak with my attorney first.”

I nodded.

But before we could make another call, my phone vibrated again.

It was another message from Emma.

Please meet me somewhere without Mom. I need to show you something. I can’t explain everything over the phone.

I looked at Margaret.

She thought for a moment.

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART7…