Chapter 4: The Woman Buying My Mother's House
"She's buying the house with money she stole from me.""
I stared at the email on Eleanor's computer, reading the buyer's name over and over.
Victoria Hayes.
My stepmother wasn't simply trying to take my mother's property. She was attempting to purchase it through her own company, using a forged document that supposedly carried my permission.
Eleanor picked up her phone.
"Emily, I need you to listen carefully. We have less than six hours.""
"Can we stop the transfer?""
"We can attempt to. But first, I need to know whether the property has already been used as collateral for another transaction.""
"What does that mean?""
"It means your stepmother may have borrowed money against the house before she even acquired it.""
My stomach tightened.
"How could she do that?""
"Fraudulent documents. Misrepresentation. Or someone with access to the trust records may have helped her.""
My father.
I looked away.
Eleanor immediately began contacting the county land records office and the bank handling the proposed transaction.
While she worked, I called my father again.
He answered after the first ring.
"Emily?""
"Tell me what Victoria did.""
He exhaled shakily.
"Where are you?""
"With Eleanor.""
"Listen, you need to come home. We can fix this without involving other people.""
"Someone is trying to transfer Mom's house into Victoria's company.""
"I know.""
Those two words hit harder than a confession.
"You know?""
My father was silent.
"How long?""
"Emily, it's complicated.""
"No. It's a simple question. How long have you known?""
He finally answered.
"Several months.""
I closed my eyes.
Several months.
While I was studying for finals, working weekends, and saving money for a graduation dress, my father had been helping his wife plan to take the last home my mother had left me.
"Why?""
"Victoria said we were going to lose everything. She said the house could save us.""
"Then sell your own things!""
"We don't have anything left to sell.""
"That's not my problem!""
My voice echoed through Eleanor's office.
My father went quiet.
Then he said, "Your mother would never have wanted you to see me like this.""
I almost laughed.
"Mom would never have wanted you to steal from me, either.""
He began crying.
"Please, Emily. I made mistakes.""
"Did you forge my signature?""
"No.""
"Did you know Victoria was using a power of attorney I never signed?""
Another silence.
Then he whispered, "She told me you had agreed.""
I felt sick.
"You're my father. You didn't even ask me?""
"She said you were willing to help.""
"Why would I give away my mother's house?""
He didn't answer.
I ended the call.
Eleanor had finished speaking with the bank.
"They're reviewing the transfer. We've submitted a formal fraud dispute, but I need you to understand something.""
"What?""
"Your stepmother may try to complete the transaction through another route. We need to secure the original trust documents and establish that you are the rightful controlling beneficiary.""
"The original documents are at the house?""
"Some are. Your mother kept certain records there.""
I remembered the greenhouse.
The third wooden panel.
The key.
"I know where we need to go.""
Eleanor looked at me.
"Where?""
"Mom's house.""
We drove there in her car.
The property sat at the end of a quiet residential road, behind an old iron gate. The garden had grown wild. The hydrangeas were overgrown, and weeds pushed through the stone pathway.
I hadn't been there in almost three years.
Victoria had convinced my father that maintaining two houses was wasteful. Eventually, he stopped taking me there.
The moment I stepped onto the porch, I smelled something familiar.
Lavender.
My mother had planted it along the windows.
I stood there for several seconds, unable to move.
Eleanor touched my shoulder.
"Take your time.""
I unlocked the front door with the spare key my mother had given me years earlier.
Inside, dust covered the furniture.
The piano remained where it had always been.
So did the framed photograph of my mother standing in the greenhouse.
I walked straight toward the backyard.
The greenhouse door creaked open.
Sunlight fell through the dusty glass panels.
I could almost hear my mother telling me not to step on the seedlings.
"Emily?""
Eleanor stood behind me.
"What did she say about the key?""
I pointed toward the floor.
"The third wooden panel from the door.""
I knelt and counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
The panel looked slightly different from the others.
I pulled at its edge.
It wouldn't move.
Eleanor handed me a small screwdriver from her bag.
I worked it underneath the wood until the panel lifted.
Beneath it was a small metal box.
Inside lay a brass key, a folded piece of paper, and a flash drive.
My hands trembled.
The note was addressed to me.
My darling Emily,
If you've found this, then someone has probably tried to take what belongs to you.
The key opens the cabinet in the study. The flash drive contains copies of documents I didn't trust anyone else to keep.
But please remember something.
The truth isn't always what people tell you. Sometimes it's what they desperately try to hide.
I looked at Eleanor.
"The study.""
We hurried inside.
The brass key opened a narrow cabinet hidden behind a row of books.
Inside were several sealed envelopes and a thick leather-bound ledger.
Eleanor immediately examined the first envelope.
Her eyebrows rose.
"Emily, this is important.""
"What?""
"These are original trust instructions signed by your mother and witnessed by two independent attorneys.""
She turned several pages.
Then she stopped.
"There's a provision here that I haven't seen in the copies.""
"What provision?""
Eleanor read carefully.
"Your mother established an independent oversight mechanism. If the trustee misused funds or attempted an unauthorized transfer, the trustee's authority could be revoked immediately.""
"Can we use it?""
"Yes. And if the financial records support the allegation, we can petition to appoint an independent administrator.""
I looked at the ledger.
"What's this?""
Eleanor opened it.
It contained handwritten records of payments, transfers, dates, and account numbers.
Some entries were marked with a small red star.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Victoria.
Eleanor turned another page.
Then another.
Her expression grew increasingly serious.
"Your mother was documenting something.""
"What?""
"Payments to a company called Hayes Consulting.""
I recognized the name.
Victoria had used it on several business cards over the years.
"That's her company.""
"Apparently.""
Eleanor checked the dates.
The earliest payment had been made two months before my mother died.
The latest was only three weeks ago.
My throat tightened.
"Why would Mom pay Victoria?""
"That's what we need to establish.""
I picked up the flash drive.
"Can we open this?""
Eleanor connected it to her laptop.
A folder appeared.
Inside were scanned contracts, photographs, and several audio recordings.
One document caught my attention immediately.
It was a hospital visitor log.
My mother's final week.
Victoria's name appeared beside several visits.
I frowned.
"Victoria visited Mom?""
Eleanor nodded.
"Did you know?""
I shook my head.
My father had always told me Victoria barely knew my mother.
I opened the first audio file.
A man's voice filled the room.
It was my father.
"Margaret, you need to sign the papers. Victoria is only trying to help.""
Then my mother's voice answered.
"Daniel, I know what she's doing.""
My blood ran cold.
The recording continued.
"She's not trying to help you. She's trying to get access to Emily's inheritance.""
My father's voice became angry.
"That's enough.""
Then my mother said something that made Eleanor freeze.
"If anything happens to me, Daniel, I want you to understand that I have already documented everything.""
A door slammed in the recording.
Then came a second voice.
Victoria's.
"Margaret, you should be careful about making accusations you can't prove.""
I stopped the audio.
I couldn't breathe.
My mother had known.
She had known Victoria was dangerous before she died.
And my father had been there.
Eleanor looked at the screen.
"Emily, there's another file.""
Before she could open it, my phone vibrated.
A text from an unknown number.
Stop digging. Your mother wasn't as innocent as you think.
A second message arrived.
Ask Eleanor what happened to the original hospital report.
I turned toward the attorney.
"What's the original hospital report?""
Eleanor's face had gone pale.
For the first time since I'd met her, she looked genuinely frightened.
"Emily," she whispered, "I think your mother discovered something much worse than financial fraud.""
Then someone knocked on the front door.
Three sharp knocks.
A familiar woman's voice called from the porch.
"Emily, sweetheart. I know you're in there.""
May you like
Victoria.
And she wasn't alone.
