PART7

“Tell her we’ll meet at my attorney’s office. Somewhere public and secure.”

I sent the message.

Emma replied almost immediately.

Okay. Please don’t bring Dad.

I put my phone down.

For the first time, I wondered whether my half-sister was finally beginning to understand what her mother had done.

Or whether she was simply frightened because the plan was falling apart.

Either way, I needed answers.

At eleven thirty that morning, Margaret and I arrived at her attorney’s office.

His name was David Bennett.

He was a calm man in his late fifties who had handled Margaret’s legal affairs for more than fifteen years.

He greeted us, offered coffee, and immediately began reviewing the documents.

When I showed him the photograph Emma had sent, he removed his glasses.

“Where did you get this?”

“My sister sent it.”

“Has she agreed to provide the original document?”

“She says she will bring it.”

David nodded.

“Good. We need to establish where this came from and whether it was ever submitted to anyone.”

He examined the document carefully.

“This is concerning, but I want to be precise. A document like this does not automatically give anyone authority over property. We need to determine whether it was signed, witnessed, notarized, or submitted anywhere.”

Margaret crossed her arms.

“And the letters?”

David opened the folder.

“Those are more serious. If someone forged Lydia’s signature and used the letters to misrepresent her wishes, we need to preserve the evidence.”

I looked at him.

“What happens now?”

“First, we establish the ownership of your apartment beyond any doubt. Second, we formally notify the property management company that nobody except you has authority to make decisions concerning your unit. Third, we investigate the forged documents.”

He paused.

“And Lydia, don’t sign anything your family gives you without having it reviewed.”

I nodded.

I was beginning to realize that the problem was much larger than an apartment key.

At twelve fifteen, Emma arrived.

She looked terrible.

Her makeup was smudged, her eyes were swollen, and she was wearing the same expensive coat she had worn to Christmas dinner.

She walked into the office holding a large brown envelope.

When she saw me, she stopped.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then she whispered, “Hi, Lydia.”

I didn’t stand up.

“Sit down, Emma.”

She looked at Margaret.

“Hi, Aunt Margaret.”

Margaret nodded but didn’t smile.

Emma placed the envelope on the table.

“I brought everything I could find.”

David introduced himself and explained that he would need to review the documents carefully.

Emma nodded.

Then she looked at me.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear anything from me.”

I folded my hands.

“You’re right. But I’m willing to listen.”

She began crying.

“I didn’t know it was going to become this bad.”

I looked at her.

“Emma, you lived in my apartment for two months.”

“I know.”

“You knew I hadn’t received it.”

She lowered her eyes.

“Yes.”

“And you knew I was still paying rent while you were living in a home that had been bought for me.”

She started crying harder.

“Yes.”

I felt my chest tighten.

“Then tell me why.”

Emma wiped her face.

“Mom told me you didn’t want the apartment.”

I stared at her.

“How could you believe that?”

“She showed me a letter.”

“What letter?”

“The one saying you wanted me to live there.”

I shook my head.

“That letter was fake.”

“I know that now.”

“Did you know it was fake before Christmas?”

She hesitated.

Then she nodded.

That answer hurt more than I expected.

I looked away.

Emma continued.

“At first, I believed Mom. She told me Aunt Margaret had bought the apartment for the family, and that you were going to receive something else later.”

“Something else?”

“She said you didn’t want to live that far from your workplace. She said you had already agreed that I could use it.”

I stared at her.

“And you never thought to call me?”

Emma shook her head.

“I should have.”

“Yes. You should have.”

She opened the envelope.

Inside were printed emails, copies of documents, and several handwritten notes.

“I found these in Mom’s desk last night. I wasn’t looking for them. I was trying to find my passport because I wanted to leave the house.”

Margaret leaned forward.

“Why did you want to leave?”

Emma looked at her.

“Because after Christmas, Mom told me I had to keep quiet. She said if I told anyone what happened, I would lose everything.”

David began examining the papers.

Emma continued.

“There’s something else. Mom kept saying the apartment was important because it would help us get control of Aunt Margaret’s other properties.”

Margaret’s face became still.

“How?”

Emma took a breath.

“Mom said Aunt Margaret was getting older and might eventually need help managing her affairs. She said if we could make Lydia look like someone who was willing to give up her rights, then it would be easier to convince Aunt Margaret that Lydia wasn’t interested in handling anything.”

I felt a chill run through me.

“Why would she want to make me look irresponsible?”

Emma looked down.

“Because Mom wanted Aunt Margaret to trust her instead.”

The room went silent.

Margaret slowly leaned back.

Then David asked the question none of us had asked yet.

“Emma, do you have evidence that your mother attempted to obtain control over Margaret’s assets?”

Emma nodded.

She removed another document from the envelope.

“This is a draft of a power of attorney.”

David examined it.

“Who prepared this?”

Emma shook her head.

“I don’t know. But Mom kept talking about getting Aunt Margaret to sign it.”

Margaret took the document.

I watched her expression change as she read it.

“That’s not something I would ever sign without independent legal advice,” she said.

David nodded.

“Nor should you.”

Emma looked at me.

“There’s also a recording.”

My heart skipped.

“What recording?”

“Mom and Dad talking about the apartment.”

“Where is it?”

Emma pulled out her phone.

“I recorded it last week. I wasn’t planning to use it. I just wanted proof because they kept telling me I was imagining things.”

David raised his hand.

“Before we listen to it, I need to understand how it was recorded and where. We also need to preserve the original file and confirm whether it can lawfully be used.”

Emma nodded.

Then she pressed play.

At first, there was only background noise.

Then Linda’s voice came through.

“Margaret won’t question anything if Richard keeps telling her Lydia is happy.”

My father’s voice followed.

“What if she asks Lydia directly?”

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART8…