Chapter 19 - THE LAST MEETING
The cemetery sat beneath a cold gray sky.
Emily was not alone.
Preston believed she was.
That was the difference.
Police surrounded the property beyond the tree line.
Raymond monitored from a command vehicle.
Nathan waited with tactical officers.
Emily walked toward her parents’ graves.
Preston stepped from behind the stone chapel.
He looked exhausted.
His expensive coat was stained.
His face had lost the polished confidence she remembered.
“You came.”
Emily stopped thirty feet away.
“You knew I would.”
He smiled weakly.
“I always knew you better than you thought.”
“No.”
Emily looked at him.
“You knew the version of me that loved you.”
“That woman is gone.”
Preston’s jaw tightened.
“Where is James?”
“Safe.”
“He’s my son.”
“He is not your property.”
Preston pulled a gun.
Emily did not move.
Police remained hidden.
“You ruined me.”
Preston’s hand shook.
“You destroyed my family.”
“Your family murdered mine.”
“My father made mistakes.”
“Your mother killed my mother.”
Preston’s face changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“You knew.”
He looked away.
Emily felt the last piece settle.
“You knew before you married me.”
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
“Did you ever love me?”
Preston laughed bitterly.
“I tried.”
Emily almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
“I needed the shares.”
“You wouldn’t sign.”
“Then you got pregnant.”
“Everything became complicated.”
Emily stared at the man she once believed would grow old beside her.
“You drugged me.”
“I needed evidence you were unstable.”
“You damaged my brakes.”
Preston stayed silent.
Emily’s stomach turned.
“That was you?”
“I only wanted to scare you.”
“You almost killed your son.”
His expression cracked.
“I didn’t know you were pregnant yet.”
Emily closed her eyes briefly.
There it was.
The confession.
Recorded by every officer surrounding them.
Preston realized too late.
He looked toward the trees.
Police lights appeared.
“Drop the weapon!”
Preston spun.
Emily stepped backward.
He raised the gun.
Nathan emerged from behind the chapel wall.
Preston hesitated.
One second.
That was enough.
Police tackled him.
The gun slid across wet grass.
Emily remained standing beside her mother’s grave.
Preston screamed her name as officers handcuffed him.
She did not turn around.
Instead, she placed one hand against Margaret Saint Claire’s headstone.
“It’s done, Mom.”
But before police drove Preston away, Detective Ortiz received another call.
Eleanor Whitmore had been found.
May you like
And she was holding one final piece of evidence that could either bury the Whitmore family forever.
Or destroy Emily’s claim to everything.
