Chapter 4 – The Envelope
They wanted my daughter declared incompetent, her inheritance folded into Beckett’s hands, her voice buried beneath expensive diagnoses.
Preston sighed. “Your late husband left Ella a generous trust. A fragile young woman can be manipulated. We’re trying to protect her.”
I almost admired the performance.
Almost.
Beckett leaned down near Ella’s face. “Tell your mother you slipped.”
Ella’s hands curled into fists.
I touched her shoulder once.
“Ella,” I said, “look at me.”
She did.
“Did you slip?”
Her voice shook. “No.”
Beckett’s smile vanished.
I turned to him. “You should leave.”
He chuckled. “You think you scare me?”
“No.”
That was true. Fear was loud. I had become quiet.
He stepped closer. “You’re a retired widow in a house full of dusty law books. I know judges. My father golfs with senators. You have one hysterical daughter and no proof.”
I opened the drawer beside me and removed a small envelope.
May you like
Beckett glanced at it, then smiled again. “What’s that? A confession?”
“Not yet.”
