Chapter 7: My Father Had Seen It Coming
"Charlene had power of attorney?""
My voice sounded unfamiliar.
Margaret was still on the phone.
"That's what the document claims. But we have reason to believe the signature was forged.""
I looked across the hallway.
Charlene was standing beside the fireplace, whispering urgently to Vanessa. Spencer had moved toward the kitchen, his phone pressed against his ear.
For the first time, I wasn't looking at them as my husband's family.
I was looking at the people who might have stolen the last thing my father had tried to leave me.
"Margaret, how did Charlene get access to my father's records?""
"We're still establishing that. Do you remember whether your father ever signed a power of attorney?""
"Never. He was very particular about his finances.""
"Did he have an attorney?""
"Yes. A man named Robert Hayes. He handled his estate planning for more than twenty years.""
"Can you contact him?""
"I can try.""
"Don't confront Charlene about the document until we have the original. And Opal, I strongly recommend that you leave the property tonight.""
I looked at Spencer.
He was pretending not to watch me.
"I will.""
"One more thing. Your father's estate may have records that contradict the documents we've received. We need to locate them.""
I ended the call.
Then I walked toward the front door.
"Opal.""
Spencer followed me.
"Wait.""
I kept walking.
He caught up beside the coat closet.
"Where are you going?""
"Somewhere you can't follow me.""
His jaw tightened.
"You're my wife.""
I turned.
"And you're the man who used my dead father's identity to move money.""
"That's not what happened.""
"Then tell me what happened.""
He looked toward the living room.
"Not here.""
"You keep saying that. When exactly do you intend to tell the truth?""
He lowered his voice.
"Mom was helping your father with some paperwork before he died.""
I stared at him.
"Why?""
"He was having trouble managing everything.""
"My father was perfectly capable of managing his finances.""
"Opal, he was sick.""
"He was sick for six weeks. He wasn't incapable.""
Spencer rubbed his forehead.
"Mom thought she was helping.""
"Did she visit him?""
He hesitated.
"Yes.""
"How many times?""
"I don't know.""
I remembered something.
My father had mentioned a visitor during one of my last hospital visits.
A woman who had brought him documents.
At the time, I assumed it was someone from his insurance company.
I hadn't thought to ask.
"Was she there when he signed the power of attorney?""
Spencer looked down.
That was answer enough.
I opened the front door.
Cold air rushed inside.
"Opal, please. Don't leave like this.""
I turned one last time.
"Do you remember what you said when my father died?""
He swallowed.
"You said you were sorry.""
"No. You said, 'At least now we can finally get everything organized.''"
His face went pale.
I continued.
"I thought you meant the funeral arrangements. I thought you were trying to help me.""
I shook my head.
"You weren't helping me. You were preparing to take what he left behind.""
Then I walked out.
I drove to a hotel twenty minutes away.
I checked in under my own name, paid with a credit card Spencer couldn't access, and requested a room away from the elevators.
Once the door was locked, I called Robert Hayes.
He answered after several rings.
"Hayes Law Office.""
"Robert, it's Opal Whitmore.""
There was a pause.
"Opal? My goodness. How are you?""
I almost cried at the kindness in his voice.
"Not very well.""
"What happened?""
"I need to ask you about my father's estate.""
His tone changed immediately.
"All right.""
"Did my father ever give Charlene Mercer power of attorney?""
Silence.
Then a sharp breath.
"No.""
I closed my eyes.
"Are you certain?""
"Absolutely. Your father specifically instructed me that nobody outside his immediate legal team was to receive authority over his estate.""
"Then how is there a document with his signature?""
Robert was quiet for several seconds.
"Can you tell me where you saw it?""
I explained the banking records, the alleged beneficiary change, and the transfers.
When I finished, he didn't speak immediately.
Then he said, "Opal, I need you to come to my office tomorrow morning.""
"Why?""
"Because there is something your father left with me.""
"What?""
"A sealed envelope.""
My heart began beating faster.
"What does it contain?""
"I was instructed to give it to you if anyone ever attempted to interfere with the estate or challenge the ownership of his property.""
I sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Why would he anticipate that?""
Robert exhaled.
"Because he was worried about Spencer.""
I stopped moving.
"What?""
"Your father met Spencer several times. He was polite, but he didn't trust him.""
I remembered my father's expression the first time Spencer had visited our home.
He had shaken his hand and smiled.
Then, after Spencer left the room, he'd asked me a strange question.
"Does he always talk about money?""
I'd laughed.
"He's ambitious, Dad.""
My father had looked at me for a long moment.
"Ambition is fine, sweetheart. But a man's character is what he does when he thinks nobody is watching.""
I hadn't understood.
Now I did.
Robert continued.
"Your father came to see me approximately two months before he died. He was concerned that someone had accessed a financial statement without his permission.""
"Who?""
"He didn't know. But he suspected it might be connected to Charlene.""
I pressed my hand against my forehead.
"Why didn't he tell me?""
"He wanted to protect you. He said you were happy, and he didn't want to create conflict unless he had evidence.""
I swallowed.
"Did he leave anything else?""
"Yes. Several original bank statements, copies of correspondence, and a handwritten letter.""
"What did the letter say?""
"I haven't opened it. It was addressed to you.""
I looked toward the window.
For three years, I'd believed my father had left me money and a house.
Now I wondered whether he'd also left me a warning.
"Can I come tomorrow?""
"First thing. I'll have everything ready.""
After we hung up, I sat in silence.
Then my phone rang.
Vanessa.
I stared at the screen before answering.
"Hello?""
"Opal?""
Her voice was trembling.
"Yes.""
"I'm sorry.""
I closed my eyes.
"For what?""
"Everything.""
I didn't respond.
She began crying.
"Mom says you're trying to put Spencer in prison.""
"I'm trying to find out what happened to my father's money.""
"I know.""
"Do you?""
There was a long pause.
Then she whispered, "I found something.""
I sat upright.
"What?""
"Mom's office.""
"What about it?""
"There's a safe behind the filing cabinet. I knew it was there, but I never paid attention to it.""
My stomach tightened.
"What did you find?""
"Documents. A lot of them.""
"Vanessa, what documents?""
She took a shaky breath.
"There's a folder with your name on it.""
I closed my eyes.
"What's inside?""
"Bank statements. Copies of your tax returns. Your father's estate papers.""
I gripped the phone.
"How did she get my tax returns?""
"I don't know.""
"Did you see anything else?""
Vanessa hesitated.
"There's a photograph.""
"What photograph?""
"Your father.""
My heart began pounding.
"Where?""
"At the hospital.""
"Who is he with?""
She whispered something.
I couldn't understand.
"Vanessa, speak clearly.""
"He's with Mom.""
I felt cold.
"What is she doing?""
Vanessa began crying harder.
"She's holding a document. And your father looks...""
She stopped.
"Looks how?""
"Scared.""
I couldn't speak.
Vanessa continued.
"There's a date written on the back. It's the day before he died.""
I closed my eyes.
"Can you take a picture of it?""
"I already did.""
"Send it to me.""
"I will.""
Then she said something else.
"Opal, there's another person in the photograph.""
I waited.
"Spencer.""
I felt as though the floor had disappeared.
"Was he holding something?""
Vanessa's voice dropped.
"Yes.""
"What?""
"A pen.""
The call ended a few seconds later.
I stared at my phone.
A photograph arrived.
I opened it.
My father was lying in his hospital bed, his face thin and exhausted.
Charlene stood beside him, holding a stack of papers.
Spencer sat in the chair near the window.
He was holding a pen.
But what caught my attention wasn't the pen.
It was my father's hand.
He was gripping the edge of the blanket, his knuckles white.
His eyes were fixed on the camera.
And his expression wasn't one of confusion.
It was fear.
I enlarged the photograph.
Then I noticed a small detail in the background.
A white envelope on the bedside table.
Written across it in my father's unmistakable handwriting were four words.
*OPAL. DO NOT TRUST THEM.*
I stared at the photograph until my eyes filled with tears.
My father had known.
He had known something was wrong.
And he had tried to warn me.
But the most frightening part was that the photograph had been taken the day before he died.
Which meant someone had kept it for three years.
Someone had hidden it.
And someone had just made the mistake of letting Vanessa find it.
My phone rang again.
This time, it was Spencer.
I answered.
"What?""
His voice was unusually calm.
"Where are you?""
"Why?""
"Because we need to talk.""
"We've talked enough.""
He paused.
Then he said, "Mom is willing to give you the money back.""
I froze.
"All of it?""
"Everything.""
"Why?""
"Because she wants this settled.""
I looked at the photograph again.
"What's the condition?""
He exhaled.
"You come home tomorrow, sign a statement confirming the guarantee was authorized, and agree not to pursue the estate issue.""
I almost laughed.
He was offering to return money that might have been stolen from me in exchange for my silence.
"Spencer?""
"Yes?""
"Did my father tell you not to trust your mother?""
The silence lasted so long I thought the call had dropped.
Then he whispered:
"Who showed you that photograph?""
I ended the call.
Because his answer had told me everything.
May you like
He knew exactly what was in it.
And tomorrow morning, I was going to find out what my father had left behind.
