Chapter 5 - Robert's Sealed Letter
The man in the photograph was Thomas Cole.
Marissa's older brother.
Daniel had once told me Thomas died in a boating accident.
Patricia had described him as an old family friend.
Apparently, he'd been her husband.
Rebecca agreed to meet me that afternoon.
She arrived shaking.
“Thomas didn't die fifteen years ago.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“Why lie?”
“Because Patricia was still legally married to him when she met Daniel.”
I stared.
“That would make her marriage to my son—”
“Potentially invalid, depending on the timeline and records.”
My thoughts went immediately to Sophie and Liam.
“The children?”
“Nothing changes who their father is.”
I exhaled.
Rebecca continued.
“Thomas helped Patricia create the shell companies. Then he wanted out.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
“You said he died.”
“He did. Eventually.”
“Rebecca.”
She looked terrified.
“Robert discovered Thomas had been receiving money from Blue Palm until six months ago.”
After his supposed death.
The payments stopped one week before Robert found the account.
Samuel began reconstructing everything.
Patricia had concealed her first marriage.
Thomas had apparently helped establish the financial network later used to siphon money.
But the most important discovery came from Robert's flash drive.
A video.
Robert sat at his desk.
He looked tired.
“Ellie, if you're watching this, I need you to know that none of this is your fault.”
I cried immediately.
He continued.
“I spent too many years believing money could protect our family. It can't. Character does that.”
He explained that he'd discovered Daniel's signatures.
He confronted Daniel privately.
Daniel admitted signing paperwork Patricia brought him but denied knowing the purpose.
Robert believed him.
Mostly.
Then Robert confronted Patricia.
She threatened to keep Sophie and Liam away from us.
That explained his silence.
Robert knew exactly which threat would hurt me most.
“I needed evidence strong enough that she couldn't manipulate Daniel or use the children as leverage.”
Then he said something unexpected.
“The money isn't the most important part.”
The video ended.
Samuel frowned.
“There should be another file.”
There was.
Password protected.
The hint read:
THE PLACE ELLIE SAID YES.
Cancún.
I entered CANCUN.
Wrong.
Then I remembered.
Robert had proposed in Galveston.
On a terrible beach with brown water and too much wind.
GALVESTON.
The file opened.
Inside were photographs of Patricia entering a private medical clinic.
Bank transfers to a physician.
And copies of Robert's medical records.
My hands went cold.
“What am I looking at?”
Samuel read silently.
“Robert had blood tests done shortly before he died.”
“So?”
“One result was inconsistent with his prescriptions.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
We sent everything to a medical specialist.
Hours later, he called.
Robert had been prescribed one cardiac medication.
His blood showed traces of another.
A drug that could dangerously interact with his condition.
Not proof of murder.
Not even proof someone gave it to him deliberately.
But enough for questions.
I went home.
Patricia was drinking wine.
“Where were you?”
“With Robert's attorney.”
Her glass stopped halfway to her lips.
I had chosen to reveal that deliberately.
“Why?”
“The new will.”
She recovered quickly.
“That ridiculous document?”
“It is legally valid.”
“We'll challenge it.”
“On what grounds?”
“Robert wasn't mentally competent.”
I almost smiled.
“You told everyone at the funeral he worked until the week he died.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“You're enjoying this.”
“No.”
And I wasn't.
Nothing about discovering rot inside your family is enjoyable.
“I want the truth.”
Patricia stood.
“You couldn't handle the truth.”
“Try me.”
Daniel entered.
Patricia turned on him.
“You told her.”
“No.”
“She knows about the will.”
“Samuel told me,” I said.
Patricia stared at me.
Something had shifted.
For three months she saw a dependent widow.
Now she was beginning to see an adversary.
Good.
But I still needed her careless.
So I lowered my eyes.
“I only want enough money to leave.”
Greed appeared in her expression.
“How much?”
“Enough for a small apartment.”
Daniel stared at me.
He knew I was lying.
Patricia didn't.
“I can arrange something,” she said.
“Thank you.”
I returned to my service room.
Ten minutes later, Daniel followed.
“You're setting her up.”
“I'm giving her opportunities to tell the truth.”
“She won't.”
“Then she'll choose what happens next.”
He sat beside Lucky.
“Mom, there's something I haven't told you.”
My heart sank.
“About Dad?”
“Yes.”
He took out his phone.
“The night Dad died, he called me.”
“What did he say?”
“I didn't answer.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why?”
“Patricia and I were fighting. I saw his name and ignored it.”
Daniel's voice broke.
“He left a voicemail.”
He pressed play.
Robert's voice filled the room.
“Daniel, listen carefully. Don't sign anything else. And don't let Patricia—”
Static.
Then Robert coughed.
A crash.
The recording continued for eleven seconds.
And beneath the noise, a woman's voice could be heard.
Not Patricia's.
The woman whispered one name.
“Marissa.”
Then someone knocked on the service-room door.
Daniel and I looked at each other.
May you like
A woman's voice came through.
“Eleanor? It's Marissa Cole.”
