Chapter 9
Rachel obtained the trust documents that afternoon.
My grandmother had established the Margaret Vale Preservation Trust thirty years earlier.
I had never known her maiden name was Vale.
That explained Vale House.
She owned twelve acres on the edge of the city.
Over time, the land became extremely valuable.
Estimated current value:
Eight million dollars.
My hands shook.
“Why didn’t I know?”
Rachel read the trust terms.
“Your grandmother intentionally kept it private.”
“Why?”
“Because she feared someone would pressure you.”
Apparently she was right.
The trust passed control to me upon my thirty-fifth birthday.
I turned thirty-five six months ago.
The same month Julian opened the life insurance policy.
The same month Vale House refinanced.
My stomach turned.
“This was all connected.”
Rachel nodded.
Worse, Vale House occupied nearly half the trust property.
“How?”
“Someone filed a long-term lease twelve years ago.”
“I was twenty-three.”
“The document claims your grandmother signed it.”
“Did she?”
Rachel looked grim.
“Her signature is disputed.”
Another forgery.
My entire marriage seemed built on forged paper.
Then Rachel found a letter attached to the trust.
Claire,
If Eleanor Hale ever approaches you about this property, contact Stephen immediately.
I stared at the name.
“Grandma knew Eleanor?”
Apparently.
The letter continued.
The Hale family tried to purchase this land after your grandfather died. I refused. Eleanor does not accept refusal well.
My skin prickled.
Julian had told me he first met me at a charity auction.
Had that been arranged too?
I remembered Eleanor’s immediate warmth.
Her strange interest in my grandmother.
Her questions about inheritance.
I had mistaken greed for affection.
Detective Monroe returned.
“We identified S.”
I frowned.
“You said Stephen Ward.”
“The phone was registered to his firm. But someone else used it.”
“Who?”
He placed a photograph on the table.
Serena.
I stared.
“No.”
Rachel looked equally shocked.
Monroe continued.
“Serena worked as Ward’s legal assistant before moving into marketing.”
My mind raced.
Julian’s college sweetheart.
My grandmother’s attorney’s employee.
Vale House.
The trust.
Nothing was accidental.
Serena was brought in for questioning.
This time, she did not deny anything.
“I knew about the trust,” she whispered.
“How?”
“Stephen discovered the forged lease.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
“Before I married Julian.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t Stephen tell me?”
“He tried.”
I remembered receiving two strange certified letters before my wedding.
Julian told me they were junk mail connected to my grandmother’s estate.
I never opened them.
“Julian intercepted them.”
Serena nodded.
My chest tightened.
“Were you helping him?”
“At first.”
The honesty hurt.
“Why?”
“I loved him.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently everyone destroys my life because they love Julian.”
Serena cried.
“He told me Eleanor only wanted time to resolve the property dispute.”
“And later?”
“I realized they were using you.”
“When?”
“After the wedding.”
“But you still slept with him.”
She lowered her head.
“Yes.”
No excuses.
At least she had learned that much.
“What did Stephen discover?”
Serena looked at Monroe.
“The original deed.”
“What about it?”
“Margaret Vale didn’t simply own the Vale House land.”
She owned a controlling interest in the development company Eleanor’s husband founded decades ago.
I stared.
“Meaning?”
Rachel answered.
“If the documents are legitimate, you don’t just own the land.”
She looked almost stunned.
“You may own controlling rights in Vale House itself.”
The company Julian had used to borrow against my home.
The company Eleanor had drained.
The company they thought belonged to them.
Then Serena whispered one final thing.
“Julian knew before he proposed.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course he did.”
She continued.
“But Eleanor knew even earlier.”
“How early?”
Serena looked at me.
“She chose you for Julian.”
My stomach turned.
“What does that mean?”
“Your meeting at the charity auction wasn’t accidental.”
May you like
She swallowed.
“Eleanor paid someone to put you at Julian’s table.”
