Chapter 6: The Will That Was Never Supposed to Exist
Detective Mills refused to let us leave without discussing the risks.
"If someone has broken into your home, we need to treat it as a potential crime scene," she said.
"Do not move anything. Do not touch anything unusual.""
I nodded.
Dad looked unusually pale.
"There's something you should know," he told her.
"What is it?""
"Your mother's original will disappeared shortly after her funeral.""
Detective Mills opened her notebook again.
"Who had access to it?""
"My lawyer, myself, and Daniel Cross.""
"Was it ever recovered?""
"No.""
I stared at my father.
"You told me she didn't leave a will.""
He closed his eyes.
"I told you there was no will that I could use to settle the estate.""
"That's not the same thing.""
"No, son. It isn't.""
I felt another wave of betrayal.
It seemed every hour brought another secret.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I believed the will had been destroyed. And because the inheritance had been placed in a separate trust.""
Detective Mills interrupted.
"Do you have a copy of the will?""
"No.""
"Then we need to establish whether the document Vanessa mentioned is authentic.""
She called two officers and arranged for them to accompany us.
The drive home felt longer than usual.
Dad sat beside me in silence.
I kept thinking about the $1.84 million.
My mother's inheritance.
The money that had supposedly been waiting for me since childhood.
The money that had disappeared three months ago.
And Vanessa's signature on the transfer authorization.
When we arrived, the front door was unlocked.
The hallway lights were on.
A broken flower vase lay near the staircase.
One of the officers raised his hand.
"Stay behind us.""
We entered slowly.
Nothing appeared missing.
The television was still mounted on the wall.
The expensive artwork remained untouched.
But the office door stood open.
My desk drawers had been pulled out.
Documents covered the carpet.
Dad walked toward the guest room.
I caught his arm.
"Don't touch anything.""
He nodded.
The officer examined the room.
Then he pointed toward the wardrobe.
"There's something here.""
A wooden box sat beneath the hanging clothes.
It was old and covered in dust.
Dad stared at it.
"I haven't seen that in years.""
The officer opened it carefully.
Inside were several envelopes, a small jewelry pouch, and a thick bundle of legal papers.
I recognized my mother's handwriting on the first envelope.
Detective Mills put on gloves.
"Is this your wife's property?""
"No," Dad replied.
"It belonged to my wife.""
The detective opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
She read it silently.
Then her expression changed.
"Mr. Bennett, I think you should see this.""
She handed it to Dad.
He read the first paragraph.
His hands began to shake.
"What does it say?"" I asked.
He looked at me.
"It's from your mother.""
I took the letter.
The writing was slightly uneven.
Arthur, if anything happens to me, please make sure Marcus receives the inheritance his grandfather left him. Daniel knows about the account, and I no longer trust him.
I read the sentence twice.
The letter continued.
There is another person involved. Someone who has access to our family records. I cannot write her name here because I don't know who might read this.
My stomach tightened.
"Her?""
Dad nodded slowly.
"Your mother was referring to someone.""
I looked through the remaining papers.
One document had a handwritten list of names.
Daniel Cross.
A lawyer named Peter Holloway.
And a third name.
Eleanor Bennett had written it in red ink.
*Margaret Hale.*
I looked at Dad.
"Who is Margaret Hale?""
He went pale.
"Your mother's younger sister.""
I blinked.
"My aunt?""
Dad nodded.
"She left the country shortly after your mother's death.""
I had a vague memory of a woman visiting us when I was very young.
She'd given me a toy truck and kissed my forehead.
I hadn't seen her again.
"Why did she leave?""
Dad shook his head.
"I was told she couldn't bear being around the family after your mother's accident.""
Detective Mills wrote down the name.
"Do you know where she lives now?""
"No.""
I looked through the documents again.
At the bottom of the bundle was a sealed envelope.
My name was written across it.
For Marcus. Open only when you are old enough to understand.
I stared at it.
My mother had written it.
The detective asked whether I wanted to open it.
I nodded.
Inside was a letter and a small photograph.
The photograph showed my mother, Aunt Margaret, and a young Vanessa.
I stopped breathing.
Vanessa looked about seventeen.
She stood between the two women, smiling at the camera.
I turned the picture over.
The date was written in my mother's handwriting.
August 2005.
I looked at Dad.
"Vanessa knew my family before we met?""
He stared at the photograph.
"I've never seen this.""
I felt a chill.
Vanessa had always told me she grew up in another state.
She'd said she'd never been to our hometown before moving there for college.
I looked at the letter.
Marcus, if you are reading this, then something has happened that I feared. Please remember that people don't always enter your life by accident. Some come because they love you. Others come because they know what you stand to inherit.
My throat tightened.
I continued.
If you ever meet a young woman named Vanessa, ask her about Margaret. Ask her why she stopped visiting us.
I lowered the letter.
The room went silent.
Detective Mills looked at me.
"Mr. Bennett, is your wife's name Vanessa?""
I nodded.
"Vanessa Bennett.""
She exchanged a glance with the officer.
Then she asked, "Do you know her maiden name?""
I shook my head.
"She never used it. She said she didn't have much family.""
Dad looked at the photograph again.
"Marcus, I think your wife has been lying about who she is.""
I picked up my phone and opened Vanessa's contact information.
There was a detail I'd never paid attention to.
Her emergency contact.
Margaret Hale.
I looked up.
"That's her aunt.""
Detective Mills took the phone.
"Do you have access to your wife's identification records?""
"Only the copies she provided when we got married.""
"Can you retrieve them?""
I opened our shared document folder.
Her passport scan was there.
I enlarged the surname.
Vanessa Margaret Hale.
My wife's legal name wasn't Vanessa Bennett.
It was Vanessa Hale.
And the woman in my mother's photograph was her aunt.
Suddenly, the photograph from the hospital made sense.
The wedding ring.
The staged image.
The false date.
Someone had been trying to connect Vanessa to my childhood.
But the truth was far more disturbing.
She hadn't entered my life by coincidence.
She had known who I was long before our first date.
Detective Mills took a photograph of the documents.
"Mr. Bennett, we need to find Margaret Hale.""
I stared at the picture of my mother.
Then at the woman standing beside her.
Aunt Margaret had been part of our family before Vanessa and I ever met.
And according to my mother's letter, she was connected to the missing inheritance.
My phone suddenly vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
Stop searching for Margaret. She isn't the person you should be afraid of.
A second message followed.
It contained a photograph taken from inside my house.
It showed Detective Mills standing beside the open wooden box.
Someone had been watching us.
Then another message appeared.
Ask your father who signed the papers after your mother's funeral.
I slowly turned toward Dad.
He was staring at the phone.
His face had gone completely white.
"Arthur?"" I whispered.
He didn't answer.
"Who signed the papers?""
My father lowered himself into the chair.
Then he covered his face with both hands.
And when he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible.
"I did, Marcus.""
He looked up at me, tears gathering in his eyes.
"But I didn't know what I was signing.""
The detective stepped forward.
"What papers, Mr. Bennett?""
Dad looked at her.
Then he said the words that changed everything.
"The documents that transferred your mother's entire estate to Daniel Cross.""
I stared at him.
My father had just admitted that he'd signed away my inheritance.
May you like
But before I could ask another question, he added:
"And the person who brought those documents to me was your aunt Margaret.""
