Chapter 5
Jason disappeared for thirty-six hours.
Diane acted offended that anyone was concerned.
She told police he was unstable.
She told friends I had humiliated him.
She told our wedding guests my father had threatened their family.
Then she went online.
By noon, my phone was full of messages.
Some supportive.
Some curious.
Some vicious.
Diane had posted a photograph of my father’s men entering the house.
The caption said:
MY SON MARRIED INTO A DANGEROUS FAMILY. NOW HE IS MISSING.
She did not mention the cane.
She did not mention my bruises.
She did not mention the security footage.
People shared it anyway.
By evening, local reporters were outside the gate.
I watched them from the library.
Dad turned off the television.
“Don’t read comments.”
“I already did.”
“Emily.”
“One woman says I probably hit myself.”
He closed his eyes.
“One says rich girls always destroy men when they get bored.”
“Stop reading.”
“Another says Jason looks too nice to abuse anyone.”
Dad sat across from me.
“People who know nothing speak the loudest.”
“I want to release the video.”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because your attorney told you not to.”
“My attorney said we should wait.”
“Yes.”
“Diane isn’t waiting.”
“She wants you angry.”
“She already has me angry.”
“That’s different from making you reckless.”
I hated that he was right.
My attorney, Rebecca Shaw, arrived an hour later.
She was in her forties, sharp, direct, and completely unimpressed by my father.
That was one reason I liked her.
She placed three folders on the table.
“The good news is the trust transfer failed.”
I exhaled.
“The bad news?”
“The document you signed was not what Jason told you it was.”
I already knew that.
Still, hearing it hurt.
“What was it?”
“A spousal authorization agreement.”
“Meaning?”
“If processed successfully, it would have allowed Jason access to a limited investment account connected to your mother’s trust.”
“How limited?”
“Six million dollars.”
I stared at her.
“Six million is limited?”
“In the structure your mother created, yes.”
Dad looked away.
Rebecca continued.
“The form requires independent legal acknowledgment from both spouses.”
“I never had a lawyer.”
“Exactly. Someone attached a forged certification.”
“Whose name?”
“A lawyer named Peter Hale.”
Dad looked at Thomas.
Thomas immediately wrote it down.
Rebecca said, “I already checked. Hale died three years ago.”
A chill ran through me.
“So they forged a dead lawyer’s signature?”
“And seal.”
“Can we prove it?”
“Easily.”
“Then arrest Diane.”
“Forgery and attempted financial fraud require evidence connecting her directly to the document.”
“She brought the notary.”
“That helps.”
“Who was the notary?”
Rebecca opened another page.
“A woman named Melissa Grant.”
Thomas spoke for the first time.
“That name is fake.”
We looked at him.
He turned his laptop around.
The notary registration number belonged to a seventy-two-year-old man in Wisconsin.
Rebecca sighed.
“So we need the woman.”
Dad said, “We’ll find her.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“The police will find her.”
Dad’s jaw moved.
I almost smiled.
For once, somebody else was telling my father how things were going to work.
Then Thomas’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
He stood.
“When?”
Dad was already watching him.
Thomas ended the call.
“Jason has been found.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“Hospital.”
My stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
“Someone left him behind a gas station twenty miles north.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
Dad asked, “Condition?”
“Concussion. Broken wrist. Cuts. Nothing life-threatening.”
I felt a strange mixture of relief and anger.
I hated Jason.
I hated what he had done.
But thirty-six hours ago he had been my husband.
My brain had not caught up with my life.
Rebecca watched me.
“You don’t have to see him.”
“I know.”
“You probably shouldn’t.”
“I know.”
I went anyway.
The hospital placed security outside his room.
A detective was already there.
Jason looked terrible.
Purple bruise beneath one eye.
Bandage around his head.
His left wrist in a cast.
When he saw me, he began crying.
“Emily.”
I stayed near the door.
The detective asked, “Do you want privacy?”
“No.”
Jason flinched.
Good.
I didn’t trust him enough to be alone.
He looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
“Tell the detective what happened.”
“My mother took me.”
The room became still.
“Explain.”
“When she heard me talking to you, she took my phone.”
“Then what?”
“She told me Raymond wanted to see me.”
Dad’s name had opened one nightmare.
Raymond’s opened another.
“Did she hurt you?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“Raymond’s men.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted out.”
I laughed coldly.
“You wanted out after you beat me?”
He covered his face.
“I know what I did.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“You hit me because I wouldn’t give you a bank card.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
His voice dropped.
“Because I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“My mother.”
I stared at him.
He continued.
“She told me if I didn’t get that card, Raymond would think I was betraying them.”
“That doesn’t explain why you hit me.”
“No.”
“Then stop using it as an excuse.”
He looked at me.
For once, there was no defense in his face.
“I was angry. I felt trapped. And I chose to hurt you.”
The words surprised me.
Maybe because they were finally true.
“I deserve whatever happens to me.”
“That doesn’t fix anything.”
“I know.”
The detective leaned forward.
“Tell us about Raymond Cole.”
Jason swallowed.
“My mother has worked with him for years.”
“How?”
“I don’t know everything.”
“Start with what you know.”
Jason looked at me.
“She knew who your father was long before I did.”
“How?”
“She used to know your mother.”
My blood went cold.
“What?”
Dad, standing near the door, suddenly stepped forward.
“What did you say?”
Jason looked frightened.
“Diane knew Emily’s mother.”
Dad’s face lost all color.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Dad grabbed the rail of the bed.
“Jason, do not lie to me about this.”
“I’m not.”
I looked between them.
“My mother died when I was seven.”
Jason nodded.
“I know.”
Dad turned toward me.
“Emily.”
“What aren’t you telling me now?”
His silence was an answer.
My chest tightened.
“How did Mom die?”
“You know how.”
“Car accident.”
“Yes.”
“Was it really an accident?”
Dad closed his eyes.
Jason whispered, “No.”
I stopped breathing.
Dad turned toward him.
“Shut your mouth.”
“Dad.”
“Emily, not here.”
“No.”
I stepped in front of him.
“Was my mother’s death an accident?”
He looked at me.
Twenty-four years of grief sat between us.
Finally he said, “The police ruled it an accident.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
The word barely came out.
I stumbled backward.
Rebecca caught my arm.
Dad tried to come closer.
I pulled away.
“You lied to me.”
“I was protecting you.”
“Stop saying that!”
Everyone in the room went silent.
I was crying now.
I didn’t care.
“You lied about your life. You lied about my mother. You knew Jason was suspicious before my wedding. How many things do I not know?”
Dad looked shattered.
“Your mother was killed because of me.”
My anger vanished for one horrible second.
He continued.
“She wanted me out. I promised I would leave the old life. I waited too long.”
“Who killed her?”
“We never proved it.”
“Who did you believe?”
He looked toward Jason.
Then said the name.
“Raymond Cole.”
Jason whispered, “My mother told me Raymond didn’t order it.”
Dad moved so fast the security officer reached for him.
I stepped between them.
“What did she say?”
Jason’s lips trembled.
“She said your mother died because somebody close to her gave Raymond the route she was driving that night.”
Dad stared at him.
“Who?”
Jason shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“You know something.”
“My mother keeps an old photograph.”
“What photograph?”
Jason looked directly at me.
“Diane and your mother.”
I felt sick.
“They were friends?”
“I think so.”
Dad whispered, “Impossible.”
Jason kept going.
“Behind the picture, your mother wrote something.”
“What?”
“I saw it once when I was a kid.”
“What did it say?”
He swallowed.
“Diane, if anything happens to me, keep Emily safe.”
Nobody spoke.
I looked at my father.
His face showed complete confusion.
Then Jason said the part that changed everything.
“My mother didn’t keep that photograph because she loved your mother.”
May you like
He took a shaky breath.
“She kept it because she hated her.”
