Chapter 6
I stared at the photograph until the screen went dark.
Margaret was alive.
At least, she had been when the picture was taken.
That should have made me feel better.
Instead, I felt something dangerous forming inside me.
Someone was using an innocent woman to force me into handing over my family's property.
I could almost hear my mother's voice.
Arthur, don't let fear make your decisions.
I took a breath.
Then I walked directly to Detective Carter.
"Someone contacted me."
I handed her the phone.
She studied the messages.
Her expression hardened.
"Don't respond yet."
I nodded.
She called another officer and showed him the photograph.
Within minutes, the courtyard became the center of a coordinated investigation.
I watched professionals do what I had spent eighteen years trying to do alone.
Protect my family.
And for the first time, I allowed myself to accept help.
Nia approached.
"What happened?"
I showed her the messages.
She covered her mouth.
"That's Mrs. Reynolds."
"You remember her?"
Nia nodded.
"She used to sing to me when I couldn't sleep."
My chest tightened.
"She was kind to you?"
"Always."
Tears filled her eyes.
"After the stairs, she was the only person who didn't make me feel guilty."
I took her hand.
"Then we're going to help her."
Detective Carter asked us to remain nearby while her team investigated the phone number.
Marcus arranged for a private room inside the mansion.
The wedding guests were gradually dismissed.
The reception I had planned for months ended with untouched food, abandoned champagne glasses, and flowers that suddenly seemed painfully out of place.
I apologized to Marcus.
He stared at me.
"Arthur, why would you apologize?"
"Because your wedding—"
"Our wedding happened," he interrupted.
He smiled sadly.
"I married the woman I love."
Nia leaned against him.
"Everything else is just a party."
I looked at them.
They were exhausted.
Frightened.
But together.
I felt something loosen in my chest.
Maybe the day wasn't completely ruined.
Maybe real love could survive an ugly beginning.
An hour later, Detective Carter returned.
"We traced the message to a temporary phone."
I sighed.
"Of course."
"But there's something else."
She showed me the photograph.
"Look at the background."
I leaned closer.
A narrow window.
A yellow wall.
A piece of old furniture.
Nothing seemed familiar.
Then I noticed the wallpaper.
Tiny blue flowers.
My heart began pounding.
"I know that room."
The detective looked up.
"Where?"
"My grandmother's old summer cottage."
"Are you certain?"
I nodded.
"I spent every August there as a child."
"Address?"
"Outside Savannah. Near the river."
She immediately contacted her team.
But something bothered me.
I looked at the photograph again.
"That cottage was sold years ago."
"To whom?"
I tried to remember.
Then my stomach twisted.
"Bellweather Development."
Detective Carter's expression changed.
"The same company?"
"Yes."
I suddenly understood.
The trust money hadn't merely disappeared.
Someone had used it to acquire properties connected to my family.
Properties Diane could control without revealing her name.
And Margaret had been taken to one of them.
The detective moved quickly.
Officers coordinated a search.
I stayed with Nia and Marcus.
Every minute felt endless.
Finally, the detective's phone rang.
She listened.
Then she looked at me.
"They found the property."
My heart stopped.
"Is Margaret there?"
"We don't know yet."
I gripped the edge of the table.
Another call came.
The detective answered.
Her expression softened.
Then she looked directly at me.
"She's alive."
My knees nearly gave out.
Nia began crying.
Marcus wrapped his arms around her.
I covered my face.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I whispered,
"Thank God."
Detective Carter continued.
"She's being taken to the hospital for evaluation."
"Was anyone arrested?"
"Two people were detained at the property."
My relief faded.
"Who?"
"One was a caretaker."
"And the other?"
She hesitated.
"Your former attorney's business partner."
I closed my eyes.
Charles.
Again.
Every road led back to him.
The detective added that the investigation was ongoing and warned us not to approach any suspects.
I agreed.
I had no intention of risking another person's life.
But I needed answers.
Especially about the original trust deed.
That evening, I sat alone in my study.
The mansion was quiet.
Nia and Marcus were resting upstairs.
My ruined suit had been placed in a garment bag.
I had refused to throw it away.
Not because I wanted to remember the humiliation.
Because I wanted to remember what happened afterward.
The moment my daughter believed me.
The moment someone defended me.
The moment the truth finally began breaking through.
A gentle knock interrupted my thoughts.
Nia stood in the doorway.
"Can I come in?"
"Always."
She entered slowly.
She had changed into comfortable clothes.
Her makeup was gone.
Her face looked tired.
But when she looked at me, I saw something new.
Trust.
She sat across from me.
"Dad, can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
She studied her hands.
"Why did you stop fighting for custody?"
I swallowed.
I had known the question would come.
"I didn't stop because I wanted to."
She looked up.
"Then why?"
I opened the bottom drawer of my desk.
Inside was an old folder.
Its edges were worn from years of being handled.
I placed it in front of her.
"These are the court records."
She opened it.
I watched her read the first page.
Then the second.
Her expression slowly changed.
"This says you requested joint custody."
"Yes."
"And Mom opposed it?"
"Every time."
She turned another page.
Then stopped.
"Dad?"
I leaned forward.
She pointed at a document.
"What's this?"
I looked.
My breath caught.
It was a signed statement supposedly written by Nia when she was ten.
It said she was terrified of me.
It said she never wanted to see me again.
The statement had destroyed my last custody petition.
I remembered reading it in court.
I remembered believing my daughter hated me.
Nia shook her head.
"I never wrote this."
I stared at her.
"What?"
"I never said any of these things."
She pointed at the signature.
"That's not even how I signed my name."
I looked closer.
For eighteen years, I had carried those words like a wound.
Now my daughter was telling me they were false.
My hands began trembling.
Nia reached across the desk.
"Dad, somebody forged this."
I couldn't speak.
She continued.
"And somebody made sure the judge believed it."
A horrifying thought entered my mind.
I remembered Charles sitting beside Diane during one hearing.
He had been my attorney years earlier.
Then he claimed a conflict of interest and withdrew.
But he knew everything about my case.
Everything.
I looked at the forged signature.
Then at my daughter.
"Charles didn't just steal your inheritance."
May you like
My voice was barely audible.
"He helped steal you from me."
