Chapter 17 - THE INHERITANCE OF A STRANGER
I didn't speak to my mother for four days.
Not because I wanted to punish her.
Because I couldn't find the words.
My entire childhood had become a collection of questions.
Did my father know when he held me as a baby?
Had he treated Lauren differently because she was biologically his?
Had my mother spent my life waiting for the secret to emerge?
And what did any of it have to do with Ryan?
Rebecca arranged a meeting with the trust attorney.
His name was Samuel Brooks.
He was precise, careful, and clearly uncomfortable with the family's history.
He explained that my grandfather's trust included provisions intended to protect descendants and address disputed family relationships.
Some provisions depended on documents that had never been conclusively verified.
I stared at him.
"Did my grandfather know?"
Samuel folded his hands.
"He appears to have been aware that questions existed."
"Did he know who my father was?"
"I can't establish that from the documents I've reviewed."
I nodded slowly.
"What about Ryan?"
Samuel looked toward Rebecca.
"The records suggest Mr. Bennett assisted your father with administrative work connected to certain trust assets."
I felt cold.
"Was that appropriate?"
"That requires review."
"And Lauren?"
Samuel hesitated.
"Her name appears in a proposed change to an administrative arrangement."
I stared at him.
"Did she receive money?"
"I can't confirm that."
I looked down at the paperwork.
Everything was suddenly connected.
Not proven.
Not explained.
But connected.
Ryan had been involved in trust matters.
My father had trusted him.
My mother had hidden medical correspondence.
Lauren had helped conceal lies.
And a disputed laboratory report had appeared just as Ryan prepared to divorce me.
I looked at Rebecca.
"Could he have been trying to damage my credibility?"
"Possibly."
"Could he have been trying to influence money connected to the trust?"
"That's another possibility."
I closed my eyes.
The worst part wasn't knowing that my husband might have wanted money.
It was remembering how little he seemed to care when I lost our baby.
How casually he'd refused to visit.
How quickly he'd returned to planning his wedding.
That evening, I sat beside Amelia on her bed.
She was reading a book about a girl who solved mysteries.
I smiled despite everything.
"Enjoying it?"
She nodded.
"She's really smart."
"I bet."
Amelia looked up.
"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Did I make everything worse?"
My heart tightened.
I sat beside her.
"No, sweetheart."
"Grandma said everybody was happy until I talked."
I brushed her hair away from her face.
"Grandma was wrong."
Amelia looked down.
"I didn't want Daddy to be sad."
I pulled her close.
"I know."
"I just wanted him to remember."
I swallowed.
"Remember what?"
She looked at me.
"That people aren't things you can throw away when you want new ones."
I closed my eyes.
Nine years old.
My daughter was nine years old.
And somehow, she understood something her father had never learned.
I kissed her forehead.
"You never have to fix what adults break."
She hugged me.
"Okay."
Then she whispered, "Mommy, I saw that lady again."
I pulled back.
"What lady?"
"The one who was outside Grandma's house."
My pulse quickened.
"What did she look like?"
Amelia frowned.
"Blonde hair."
I held my breath.
"Anything else?"
"She had a red bag."
I thought of Victoria Hayes.
"Where did you see her?"
May you like
Amelia looked at me.
"At my school."
