Chapter 3 - THE LETTERS I NEVER RECEIVEDI could hear my own heartbeat.
My father held the opened envelope carefully between his fingers.
Ryan stayed near the desk.
Nobody had to ask whether he recognized it.
His handwriting was unmistakable.
DO NOT DELIVER.
I looked at my husband.
“You opened my father’s mail?”
Ryan shook his head.
“It isn’t what you think.”
“That sentence should be carved on your tombstone.”
“Emily.”
“Did you open it?”
“It came to the house.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Ryan looked toward his mother.
Diane suddenly found the carpet interesting.
I noticed.
“So she knew too.”
Diane’s head snapped up.
“I did not.”
“You looked away.”
“That proves nothing.”
I took one step toward her.
“Did you know Ryan was keeping my father’s letters from me?”
“No.”
Ryan interrupted.
“My mother had nothing to do with this.”
Diane looked relieved.
That answer told me almost everything.
I held out my hand to Dad.
“Give it to me.”
He passed me the envelope.
My fingers shook as I removed the folded pages.
The date at the top was December 18, six years earlier.
My eyes blurred before I reached the second line.
Emily,
I do not understand why you have asked me to stop contacting you, but I will respect your wishes if they truly came from you.
I stopped.
I looked at Dad.
“I never asked that.”
“I know.”
I forced myself to continue.
I will not force myself into your life, but I need you to know that nothing Ryan says will ever make me stop loving you.
My knees nearly gave out.
Lily wrapped both arms around my waist.
I kept reading.
If I have hurt you, tell me how.
If you need space, I will give it.
If you need me, call once, and I will come.
Any time.
Any place.
No questions asked.
I looked at the shattered plate fragments still visible through the dining room doorway.
Then I looked at my father.
Six years.
Six entire years.
Birthdays.
Christmases.
Lily’s school plays.
The funeral of my aunt.
My thirtieth birthday.
My father had missed all of them because someone had told him I wanted him gone.
“Who told you?”
Dad answered without looking away from Ryan.
“Your husband.”
Ryan laughed bitterly.
“You’re acting like I kidnapped her.”
Dad finally turned.
“You isolated her from her family by impersonating her wishes.”
“I protected my marriage.”
“From what?”
“From you.”
I stared at Ryan.
“You told me he refused to answer my calls.”
“You were fighting constantly.”
“Because you kept telling me he hated you.”
“He did.”
Dad shook his head.
“I distrusted you.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
My father’s voice lowered.
“I distrusted you because you asked me to liquidate Emily’s trust eighteen days after your wedding.”
Ryan froze.
I looked at Dad.
“He what?”
“He wanted control transferred to you jointly.”
Ryan pointed at him.
“Because we were married.”
Dad ignored him.
“He said separate assets created distrust between spouses.”
I remembered Ryan saying the same thing to me.
He had told me my father was keeping the trust separate because he wanted to maintain control over me.
The lie had been repeated so often that it had become my memory.
I stared at my husband.
“You wanted my inheritance from the beginning.”
Ryan shook his head.
“No.”
Dad looked at Margaret.
She opened the black ledger.
The first pages contained handwritten dates.
Transfers.
Bank names.
Account numbers.
Initials.
Margaret’s expression changed.
“This is not bookkeeping.”
Robert stepped closer.
“What is it?”
“A diversion ledger.”
Ryan moved toward her.
“Give me that.”
One of the guards blocked him.
Margaret turned another page.
“These are payments.”
“To whom?”
She looked at Robert.
“I don’t know yet.”
Then she pointed.
“But this column lists amounts removed from Collins Advanced Manufacturing.”
Robert stared at the numbers.
“Two hundred thousand.”
Margaret turned the page.
“Three hundred twenty-five.”
Another page.
“Four hundred.”
Diane sank into a chair.
Ryan snapped.
“Those were investments.”
Robert looked at him.
“In what?”
Ryan remained silent.
Robert shouted.
“In what?”
I had never heard him raise his voice that way.
Ryan rubbed both hands over his face.
“The company was expanding.”
“Where?”
“Different markets.”
“Which markets?”
“Dad, enough.”
Robert laughed once.
It was a broken sound.
“You emptied my company.”
“I grew your company.”
“With stolen money?”
“Nothing was stolen.”
Margaret turned another page.
Then she stopped.
“Emily.”
I looked at her.
She rotated the ledger toward me.
One line had my initials beside it.
EGC.
$40,000.
Three weeks earlier.
My savings.
Below it was a destination account.
NORTH CYPRESS CONSULTING.
“Who owns North Cypress?”
I asked.
Margaret shook her head.
“We’ll find out.”
Ryan looked toward the door.
Dad noticed.
“Were you going somewhere?”
Ryan glared at him.
“You don’t control me.”
“No.”
Dad nodded toward the ledger.
“But that book might.”
Diane abruptly stood.
“This has gone far enough.”
She grabbed her handbag.
“We need to call our attorney.”
Margaret smiled faintly.
“That would be wise.”
Diane looked at Ryan.
“Come on.”
Ryan didn’t move.
“Ryan.”
“I can’t leave.”
“Why?”
He looked toward the bookcase.
Everyone followed his eyes.
The compartment was still open.
Inside were the flash drive and passports.
Robert noticed them.
“Whose passports are those?”
Nobody answered.
He pulled them out.
The first belonged to Ryan.
The second belonged to Diane.
The third had Lily’s name on it.
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
I grabbed it.
Lily’s photograph stared back at me.
The passport had been issued eleven months earlier.
I had never applied for it.
I looked at Ryan.
“Why do you have a passport for Lily?”
He spoke quickly.
“For travel.”
“What travel?”
“We talked about taking her overseas.”
“No, we didn’t.”
“Yes, we did.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“I would remember signing a passport application.”
His eyes flickered.
Margaret reached for the document.
“May I?”
I handed it to her.
She examined the signature page.
Then she looked at me.
“Is this your signature?”
I stared at it.
It looked like mine.
But the E curved differently.
The way it always did when Ryan tried to imitate my handwriting on birthday cards.
“No.”
Lily whispered.
“Mom?”
I knelt and held her.
“It’s okay.”
But nothing was okay.
Dad looked at Ryan.
“Why did you obtain a passport for my granddaughter using a forged parental signature?”
Ryan’s face hardened.
“You people are making everything sound criminal.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow.
“That is because several things now appear to be criminal.”
Ryan pointed at her.
“Stop using that word.”
“What word?”
“Criminal.”
She closed the passport.
“You forged a signature on a federal document.”
Ryan lunged forward.
Dad’s guard stepped between them again.
Ryan shouted.
“Get out of my way.”
Margaret remained calm.
“I suggest you stop creating witnesses.”
His chest rose and fell.
Diane suddenly began crying.
Not softly.
Dramatically.
She pressed both hands to her face.
“My family is being destroyed.”
I looked at her.
She peeked at me through her fingers.
I almost laughed.
My shoulder was swelling where the plate had struck me.
My husband had stolen my inheritance money.
He had hidden my father’s letters.
He had apparently forged my signature.
And Diane was the victim.
“Your family isn’t being destroyed.”
She stared at me.
“Your son is being exposed.”
Her expression turned vicious.
“You ungrateful little—”
Robert cut her off.
“Enough.”
Diane spun toward him.
“What?”
“I said enough.”
She stared at her husband.
He looked exhausted.
“You defended him when he screamed at Emily.”
“He was upset.”
“You defended him when he took her money.”
“They’re married.”
“You defended him after he threw a plate.”
“She provoked him.”
Robert closed his eyes.
When he opened them, something had changed.
“You always do that.”
Diane went still.
“What are you talking about?”
“With him.”
“He is our son.”
“So is Mark.”
Ryan looked up.
Dad noticed.
“Where is Mark?”
Robert frowned.
“At home, I assume.”
Ryan looked toward the flash drive.
Margaret picked it up.
“Perhaps we should find out.”
Ryan immediately spoke.
“No.”
Everyone turned toward him.
He recovered too slowly.
“I mean Mark has nothing to do with this.”
Robert stared at his son.
“How do you know?”
Ryan’s jaw tightened.
Dad looked at Margaret.
“Secure the drive.”
She placed it in an evidence pouch.
Ryan took another step.
“You cannot take property from this house.”
I looked at him.
Then at my father.
Dad’s mouth almost twitched.
“Whose house?”
Ryan’s face turned red.
Before he could answer, headlights appeared outside again.
Another vehicle stopped in the driveway.
Ryan looked confused.
I assumed it was Mark.
It wasn’t.
A uniformed police officer approached the front door.
Then another.
Diane whispered.
“Who called the police?”
Ryan smiled.
For the first time since Dad arrived, he looked relieved.
“I did.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
“When your father barged into our home with armed men.”
Diane’s confidence immediately returned.
“Yes.”
She pointed toward Dad.
“He threatened us.”
Dad said nothing.
Ryan straightened his jacket.
He suddenly looked calmer.
More like the husband I knew in public.
Polished.
Reasonable.
Controlled.
The first officer knocked.
Ryan walked toward the door.
He looked at me before opening it.
His eyes were cold.
“You should have just kept quiet.”
Then he opened the door and transformed.
“Officer, thank God.”
His voice became shaken.
“My wife’s father forced his way into our home with armed men.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
Ryan lowered his voice.
“My wife is having some kind of emotional episode.”
My stomach dropped.
Diane immediately stepped beside him.
“She has been unstable for months.”
I could not speak.
Robert stared at his wife.
“What are you doing?”
She ignored him.
The officer looked toward me.
Ryan continued.
“She threatened to take our daughter.”
Lily shouted.
“That’s not true!”
Ryan turned.
“Lily, sweetheart, go upstairs.”
“No!”
The officer stepped inside.
His eyes moved from Ryan to me.
Then to the bruise growing across my shoulder.
Then to broken ceramic in the dining room.
“What happened to your shoulder, ma’am?”
Ryan opened his mouth.
I answered first.
“My husband threw a plate at my face.”
The officer looked at Ryan.
Ryan smiled tightly.
“She threw it first.”
My mouth fell open.
“I did not.”
Diane spoke.
“I saw the whole thing.”
I looked at her.
She met my eyes.
“She attacked Ryan.”
Robert’s chair scraped across the floor.
Everyone turned.
He stood slowly.
“No.”
Diane looked at him.
“Robert.”
He walked toward the officer.
“My son threw the plate.”
Ryan’s face changed.
“Dad.”
Robert pointed toward the dining room.
“I watched him do it.”
Diane hissed.
“Think about what you’re saying.”
“I am.”
Robert looked at Ryan.
“And I should have started saying it years ago.”
The officer reached for his radio.
Ryan’s entire body stiffened.
Then a second officer called from the office.
“Sir?”
We all looked down the hallway.
He was standing beside the smoking wastebasket.
“What was being burned in here?”
Nobody answered.
The officer crouched.
Then he lifted a half-charred page with gloved fingers.
Across the surviving portion were three readable words.
TRANSFER UPON DEATH.
And beneath them was my father’s name.
Peter Carter.
Dad stared at the document.
Margaret went pale.
“What?”
I looked at her.
She whispered.
“That is not a company record.”
“What is it?”
She stepped closer.
“It looks like part of Peter’s estate plan.”
My father frowned.
“That’s impossible.”
Margaret looked at Ryan.
“No.”
May you like
Her expression became grim.
“It means somebody has been planning for Peter Carter’s death.”
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