Chapter 6
My hands shook as I peeled the tape off.
Lena watched, her breath held.
I walked back to the box and inserted the key. It turned with a satisfying click.
I lifted the lid.
Inside, on top of a stack of papers, was an envelope.
My name was written on it in Grant's handwriting.
Audrey.
My throat tightened. I picked it up with trembling fingers.
It wasn't sealed.
I opened it.
Two sheets of paper inside.
The first was a will. Dated three weeks before Grant died.
I scanned it quickly. My heart sank.
He had changed it.
Not everything. But enough.
The house. The savings. Most of it still went to me and Poppy.
But there was a provision. A trust fund. For his unborn child. A significant amount of money.
And then the second page.
A letter. Addressed to me.
I started reading.
My Audrey,
If you're reading this, I'm dead. And I'm so sorry.
I know about the affair. I know about Lena and the baby. And I know you hate me right now. You have every right to.
But there's something you need to know. Something I couldn't tell you when I was alive.
Margaret didn't just find out about Lena recently. She knew. She helped me hide it. She found the apartment for her. She paid the rent some months.
She said she was protecting the family name.
But that's not why she's coming after you now.
She's not just looking for money for the baby. She's looking for something else. Something I have. Evidence.
Margaret has been stealing from the family business for years. Embezzling. Millions of dollars. I found out about it six months ago. I confronted her. She promised to pay it back. But I knew she wouldn't.
I kept records. Bank statements. Emails. Everything. It's all in this box.
I was going to turn her in. But then the accident happened.
Wait.
The accident.
I read the next line, and my blood turned to ice.
If I die suddenly, Audrey. If it looks like an accident. Don't believe it.
Margaret found out I was going to the police. She would do anything to stop me.
Anything.
Protect Poppy. Protect yourself. And whatever you do, don't let Margaret get these files.
I love you. I'm so sorry for everything.
Grant.
The letter slipped from my fingers.
Lena looked at me, her face white.
"What is it?" she whispered. "What does it say?"
I looked at the other papers in the box. Bank statements. Spreadsheets. Emails printed out.
Everything Grant said. All the evidence.
And then I understood.
May you like
Margaret wasn't here for a will.
She was here to destroy evidence.
