“Sarah wrote this before she died. She left it in her safe deposit box with instructions that it be opened if two things happened. First, if Jack became romantically involved with Valerie. Second, if Valerie moved into the house.”
Dad’s hand slipped from the chair.
Valerie whispered, “That’s impossible.”
Grandma looked at her.
“Your mistake was assuming Sarah didn’t know what kind of sister she had.”
My heartbeat pounded in my ears.
Grandma began to read.
“My dearest Chloe, if this letter is being opened, then I am sorry. It means I was right about things I prayed I was wrong about.”
My breath caught.
Grandma’s eyes flicked to me, soft for only a second, then returned to the paper.
“Jack, I know. I know about Valerie. I know about the money. I know about the lies you told me while I was sick, and I know about the lies you planned to tell Chloe after I was gone.”
Dad barked, “Stop.”
Grandma did not stop.
“I have changed my will. I have changed the trust. You will not control Chloe’s inheritance. You will not sell the house. You will not use my life insurance to reward yourself for betraying me.”
Valerie’s chair scraped backward.
“This is disgusting,” she said. “She was ill. She wasn’t in her right mind.”
Grandma folded the letter halfway, then reached back into the box.
There was something else beneath the velvet.
A small black flash drive.
Grandma held it up.
“She was in her right mind when she made the recording too.”
Dad moved so fast I didn’t process it until he was already across the room.
He grabbed Grandma’s wrist.
“Give it to me.”
I yelled, “Dad!”
The room erupted.
One of his coworkers stood. The wedding planner backed into the wall. Valerie shouted something I couldn’t understand.
Grandma didn’t flinch.
She looked straight into Dad’s eyes and said, “Jack, if you bruise me, I’ll add assault to the list.”
He let go.
But I had seen his face.
It wasn’t grief. It wasn’t shock.
It was fear.
Grandma reached into her purse and pulled out a second flash drive.
“This one is a copy.”
Then another.
“And this one is going to my attorney.”
Then a third.
“And this one is already with Detective Marsh.”
Valerie went still.
That name meant something to her.
Dad noticed. So did I.
“Detective?” Dad asked.
Grandma’s voice became very quiet.
“Yes. Detective.”
Valerie laughed, but it came out cracked.
“Oh, please. What are you accusing us of now? Being in love? Grieving imperfectly? Trying to make a family?”