Chapter 4 - The Locked Drawer
Thomas led Naomi toward his office.
Ryan tried to follow.
One of the security officers stepped in front of him.
“This is my parents’ house.”
Naomi didn’t turn around.
“According to the deed, it is Ms. Bennett’s trust property.”
Diane made a disgusted sound.
“You people are enjoying this.”
I stared at her.
“You watched your son throw a plate at me.”
She crossed her arms.
“You provoked him.”
Lily stiffened beside me.
That was the moment I stopped caring whether Diane ever liked me again.
“You just explained why he believed he could do it.”
Her face hardened.
I turned away.
Inside the office, Thomas opened a walnut cabinet.
Lily pointed toward the bottom drawer.
“That one.”
Thomas pulled it.
Locked.
Ryan shouted from the dining room.
“Dad, don’t.”
Thomas looked at his son.
For the first time that night, something like disgust appeared in his eyes.
“Where is the key?”
Ryan said nothing.
Thomas walked behind his desk and removed a small brass key from beneath a paper tray.
His hands trembled as he unlocked the drawer.
Inside were three folders.
Naomi opened the first.
Bank statements.
The second contained correspondence with the company buyer.
The third contained photocopies of my passport, driver’s license, old tax returns, and trust documents.
My skin crawled.
Naomi picked up a notepad.
Several versions of my signature covered the page.
Thomas whispered, “Oh, God.”
Ryan shoved past the security officer before anyone could stop him.
“That proves nothing.”
Naomi held up the page.
“It proves someone practiced Emily’s signature.”
“I was doing paperwork.”
“With her signature?”
Ryan’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Then I saw an envelope beneath the folders.
My name was handwritten across the front.
The handwriting was familiar.
Dad’s.
I reached for it.
Ryan moved faster.
He snatched the envelope from the drawer.
One of the security officers caught his wrist.
“Let go.”
Ryan shouted.
“It belongs to me.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“It has my name on it.”
He stared at me.
For a second, the anger vanished.
What replaced it was panic.
“Emily, you don’t understand.”
“Then let me read it.”
His grip tightened.
Naomi calmly took the envelope from his hand.
The postmark was almost six years old.
Exactly two weeks after Dad and I stopped speaking.
I tore it open.
Inside was a four-page letter.
May you like
The first line destroyed the story Ryan had told me for years.
Emily, I don’t know why you believe I threatened to disinherit you, but I never sent the email Ryan showed you.
