Chapter 10 - The Night Before.
Diane had not planned to become a witness.
She had only wanted to confess before Arthur died.
She gave him the nine missing letters and told him where Vanessa kept the rest.
Arthur listened without interrupting.
Then he told Diane to leave through the side door so Vanessa would not see her.
Diane sat in her car for twenty minutes, too shaken to drive.
At 8:47 p.m., Vanessa arrived.
At 9:12 p.m., Diane saw her leave.
Arthur's housekeeper found him unresponsive the next morning.
The doctor attributed his death to his advanced heart condition.
Diane had never believed Vanessa caused it.
She still did not.
But she remembered something that had frightened her.
“Vanessa was carrying papers when she went in.”
Grant leaned forward.
“What papers?”
“I couldn't see.”
“And when she left?”
“Nothing.”
Savannah looked at Grant.
“The nine letters.”
He nodded slowly.
If Vanessa had removed them from Arthur's study, she had done so before his death.
That meant she knew he had recovered evidence.
Grant called Martin.
“Check the study safe again.”
“We emptied it.”
“Check the desk, books, vents, everything.”
Martin went silent.
Then he said something neither Grant nor Savannah expected.
“Arthur's desk has a false drawer.”
They drove back to the house.
Vanessa was there.
She stood in the foyer with two suitcases.
Grant stopped near the door.
“Where are you going?”
Vanessa lifted her chin.
“Somewhere I don't have to be accused in my own home.”
“This was Dad's home.”
“He left it to me.”
Martin stepped out of the library.
“No.”
Vanessa stared at him.
Martin held a document.
“Arthur transferred the property into the children's trust six weeks ago.”
Vanessa's face became empty.
Savannah immediately hated the look.
Not because it was frightening.
Because it was calculating.
Vanessa lowered the suitcase handles.
“You all believe she won.”
Savannah answered quietly.
“This isn't a contest.”
“It has always been a contest.”
“For you.”
Vanessa's eyes flashed.
“You walked into this family wearing a thrift-store dress and acted like Dad's approval made you equal.”
Grant stared at his sister.
Savannah did not move.
“I never wanted to be equal to you.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“No, you wanted to be better.”
“I wanted my children to have a father.”
The sentence ended the argument.
Grant looked away.
Martin entered the study and pressed beneath the center desk drawer.
A narrow compartment clicked open.
Inside were the nine letters.
On top of them was a single photograph.
It showed Vanessa standing outside Martin Keene's office seven years earlier beside a man Savannah did not recognize.
Grant recognized him immediately.
“That is not Martin.”
Savannah looked at him.
“Who is it?”
Grant's voice dropped.
“His former assistant.”
Martin stared at the photograph.
“Peter Sloan.”
Vanessa moved toward the door.
Grant stepped in front of her.
“What did Peter do?”
Martin's expression darkened.
“He had access to my letterhead, my files, and your signature samples.”
Savannah understood.
“The separation papers.”
Martin nodded.
Vanessa's face hardened.
Grant looked at her.
“Tell me this ends with forged documents.”
May you like
Vanessa said nothing.
And for the first time, Grant wondered how much of his life had been built on signatures he never should have trusted.
