Chapter 3 - THE ENVELOPE
Detective Aaron Ruiz interviewed me that afternoon.
He asked about Lauren.
About my parents.
About the argument.
I told him exactly what had happened.
My father had brought documents to our family barbecue and demanded that I sign something called a voluntary beneficiary waiver.
I refused.
Lauren accused me of trying to steal the company.
I told her I couldn’t steal something I didn’t control.
Then she snapped.
At least, that was what I had believed.
Detective Ruiz opened his laptop.
“Your cousin Caleb recorded more than the assault.”
He played the video.
I saw myself standing beside the patio table.
Lauren was screaming.
My father stood behind her.
My mother was near the house.
Then Ruiz paused the recording.
“Look here.”
He enlarged the background.
Five minutes before Lauren kicked me, my mother walked toward her.
She slipped a small white envelope into Lauren’s hand.
I felt cold.
“Can you hear what they’re saying?”
“Not clearly.”
Ruiz pressed play.
My mother leaned close to Lauren.
Three words could be heard.
“Before she signs.”
Then Lauren shoved the envelope into her pocket.
Ethan leaned forward.
“What was inside?”
“We don’t know.”
Lauren had been arrested for aggravated assault.
Her attorney claimed she had lost the envelope during the chaos.
Nobody believed that.
My father was telling police the recording was misleading.
My mother claimed she had simply given Lauren money.
Detective Ruiz didn’t argue.
He didn’t need to.
“You should also know your father tried to take Caleb’s phone before officers arrived.”
“I saw that.”
“He says he wanted to protect a minor.”
Caleb was seventeen.
He had watched an adult woman kick a pregnant woman while half the family stood frozen.
Apparently protecting Caleb meant destroying his evidence.
Ruiz packed away his laptop.
“We’re obtaining warrants.”
After he left, Ethan sat silently.
I noticed he was staring at the trust document.
“What?”
He shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“Ethan.”
He looked guilty.
That frightened me.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Before he could answer, Margaret returned.
She carried an older version of my grandmother’s trust.
“There’s something both of you need to see.”
She opened to an amendment dated October 2019.
Ethan’s face changed before I even read it.
Margaret noticed.
“So you recognize the date.”
I turned toward my husband.
“Why would he recognize it?”
Ethan said nothing.
May you like
Margaret looked between us.
“Because according to my records, Ethan requested a copy of this amendment two months ago.”
