Chapter 8 - THE DEAL
Amelia’s attorney was named Rachel Kim.
Rachel did not dramatize anything.
That was why Amelia trusted her.
After reviewing the trust documents, estate records, and Daniel’s emails, Rachel pushed the folder away.
“This is no longer a family disagreement.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Amelia looked at her.
Rachel counted points on her fingers.
“Potential breach of fiduciary duty.
Potential fraud during probate.
Potential forgery.
Possible theft from a minor’s trust.
Possibly fraudulent supporting documents.”
“And Daniel?”
“We do not speculate about his death without evidence.”
Amelia nodded.
“But we preserve everything.”
“Yes.”
Rachel contacted the bank that had administered the original trust assets.
Records older than seven years required formal requests.
Martin Hale provided affidavits.
The probate court archive produced scanned filings.
Then Rachel found something Amelia had not expected.
The medical letter claiming Amelia was too fragile to participate in probate had been signed by Dr. Rebecca Sloan.
Amelia recognized the name.
She had never been Amelia’s doctor.
She was Joanna’s college roommate.
Rachel located her.
Dr. Sloan now practiced family medicine in Colorado.
When Rachel showed her the letter, she denied writing it.
“That isn’t my signature.”
The notary stamp was real.
The signature was not.
By the end of the week, Rachel had enough to petition for a court review of the estate administration and the trust.
Joanna received notice on Friday afternoon.
At 4:42, Amelia’s phone rang.
She answered this time.
Joanna was crying.
Not angry.
Crying.
“How could you do this?”
Amelia stood at the kitchen window.
“By hiring an attorney.”
“They froze my accounts.”
“Not all of them.”
“My checking account.”
“Because money from the trust was traced into it.”
“I need that money.”
“It belongs to Maisie.”
“I have bills.”
“So do I.”
“You’re rich.”
Amelia closed her eyes.
There it was.
The assumption beneath everything.
Amelia had more.
Therefore Joanna could take.
“You have never understood what I sacrificed.”
“Then explain it.”
“I gave up my career for Mom.”
“You took care of her for six weeks.”
“I handled everything afterward.”
“You paid yourself.”
“I deserved compensation.”
“You bought a car.”
“I was driving Mom to appointments before she died.”
“For six weeks.”
Joanna stopped crying.
Her voice turned hard.
“You keep saying six weeks like that was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing.”
Amelia’s voice softened.
“I was grateful.”
“Not grateful enough.”
Amelia finally understood.
No amount would ever have been enough.
Because Joanna did not want gratitude.
She wanted permanent leverage.
“You received nearly eight hundred thousand dollars from me.”
“I never asked for all of that.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Not like that.”
“You asked one emergency at a time.”
Joanna was silent.
Then she said something quietly.
“Daniel understood.”
Amelia’s chest tightened.
“What did Daniel understand?”
“That sometimes money is cheaper than truth.”
The line went dead.
Amelia stared at the phone.
Seconds later, a text arrived from an unknown number.
One photograph.
Daniel standing outside a motel.
Beside him was a woman Amelia did not recognize.
May you like
Underneath the photograph were five words.
ASK WHAT YOUR HUSBAND HID.
