Chapter 6 - THE FATHER’S WILL
The kitchen grew so quiet I could hear the faint ticking of the wall clock over the hum of the refrigerator.
“What did you say?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Arthur slid the certified death certificate across the granite island toward me. The paper felt heavy, slick, and impossibly cold beneath my fingertips.
I looked down at the header: State of Ohio, Department of Health – Certificate of Death. Name: Robert Wayne Hayes. (My father.) Date of Death: October 14, two years ago. Manner of Death: Pending Further Investigation / Exhumation Order Issued.
“My father died of a massive heart attack,” I said, shaking my head as the denial rose in my throat like bile. “We buried him in the family plot in Columbus. Karen and I stood by his casket. The doctor signed off on natural causes.”
“The doctor who signed off was Karen’s fiancé at the time—a general practitioner who lost his license six months later for prescription fraud,” Arthur said quietly. He placed a hand on the edge of the counter. “David needed your father’s signature to access the natural gas rights on the family farm before the zoning laws changed. But your father refused. He threatened to cut Karen out of the will if she married David.”
I looked up slowly, my eyes locking onto my husband.
David had retreated until his shoulders hit the pantry door. He wouldn't look at me. His eyes were fixed on the floor, his breathing shallow and rapid.
“You killed him,” I whispered. The words tasted like copper and ash. “You and Karen… you killed my father.”
“No! No, that’s insane!” David shrieked, panic finally breaking through his paralysis. He pushed off the pantry door and stepped toward us, his voice cracking hysterically. “I wasn't even in Ohio when the old man died! I was at a real estate convention in Chicago! Ask Laura—she took my calls!”
“Your cell phone records place your phone pinging off a tower ten miles from your father-in-law's farm in Columbus on the night of his death, David,” Arthur said coldly, pulling a printed telecommunications log from his briefcase. “And your mistress, Chloe Vance—who happens to be my niece—confessed to the board this afternoon that she rented the car you used to drive out there.”
Laura gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Chloe is your niece?”
Arthur nodded grimly. “She was supposed to keep an eye on David’s spending for the firm. Instead, she got sucked into his web of lies. When she realized David was planning to marry Karen in Rhode Island while stringing her along with a diamond bracelet bought with stolen college funds, she broke down and told us everything.”
Answer one: David and my sister Karen conspired to murder my father to get immediate access to the Ohio land inheritance, using forged documents and a corrupt doctor to cover it up.
But as the monstrous reality of my family’s betrayal settled over my bones, a darker question began to claw at the back of my mind.
“If the board knew about this at 5:00 PM today,” I said, looking straight at Arthur, “why did you bring these files here, to my house, instead of taking them straight to the police?”
Arthur hesitated. He glanced at Michael, then down at Emily, who was still huddled on the floor near the pantry, holding her knees to her chest.
“Because, Sarah,” Arthur said, his voice softening with genuine sorrow, “there is one more document in that folder. One that directly involves you and Emily.”
Open two: What was in the final document, and how did it rope Emily and me into David and Karen’s criminal conspiracy?
Reversal: Arthur flipped to the very last page of the legal file and pointed to a signature line at the bottom.
My eyes scanned the text. It wasn't a bank statement. It wasn't a death certificate.
It was a property deed transfer.
My home. The house we had lived in for twenty-two years. The house my father had gifted to me and Emily in his original will.
Except the signature on the deed transferring ownership over to a shell corporation controlled by David and Karen… wasn't mine.
It was forged. And the notary public who stamped it last week?
May you like
It was Laura.
Cliffhanger: Laura backed away toward the front door, her eyes wide with sheer terror as she whispered, “I didn't know what I was signing… I swear to God, David told me it was just a tax form for the bakery!”
