Chapter 6 - Trapped at the Lake House
David immediately moved in front of me.
"Back up."
We stepped deeper into the workshop.
The man outside tried the handle.
Locked.
Then came three knocks.
"Emily."
My father's voice.
I stared at the door.
He shouldn't have been there.
Not unless someone had told him we found the box.
"Open the door."
I didn't move.
"Dad, why are you here?"
"I want to talk."
"Then unlock the door."
Silence.
"You have something that belongs to the family."
I looked at the blue box.
"No."
"You don't understand."
"I understand perfectly."
His voice changed.
"You heard the recording."
I froze.
How did he know?
David whispered:
"He knows."
My father continued.
"Your grandfather was old and angry."
"You said he was confused."
"I was wrong."
I looked at David.
So Dad had admitted something without realizing it.
"Unlock the door."
"No."
My father sighed.
"Emily, I don't want this to become ugly."
"Then stop lying."
He was silent.
Then he said:
"You think I'm the villain."
"Are you?"
"I did what I had to do."
"With my money?"
"For your family."
"My family?"
"Miranda needed help."
"So you stole from me."
"I borrowed it."
"You forged my signature."
"No."
The denial came too quickly.
"Then whose signature is it?"
Silence.
I knew.
He knew.
We both knew.
David called Hannah.
She instructed us to preserve everything and not engage further.
Twenty minutes later, local deputies arrived.
My father stepped away from the door.
He didn't leave until they arrived.
When we finally exited, he looked at me.
"You have no idea what you're about to uncover."
"Then tell me."
He shook his head.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because your mother isn't the one you should be afraid of."
Then he walked away.
I watched him get into his car.
A second vehicle was parked behind him.
Miranda's.
I turned to David.
"She followed him."
We drove back to Virginia.
That evening, Hannah reviewed the box.
She spread the papers across her conference room.
"This is enough to reopen the estate investigation."
"What exactly did Grandpa discover?"
Hannah pointed to a series of handwritten numbers.
"These are distributions."
"From the trust?"
"Yes."
"Why are they different from the bank statements?"
She looked closer.
"Because these appear to show cash payments."
My stomach tightened.
"Cash?"
"Large cash withdrawals."
"How large?"
She added the amounts.
Nearly $600,000.
I felt dizzy.
"Where did it go?"
Hannah looked at the final column.
"There's a note."
"What does it say?"
She turned the ledger toward me.
The handwriting wasn't Grandpa's.
It was my father's.
Protection.
I stared at the word.
"Protection from what?"
Hannah didn't answer immediately.
Then she found another document.
It was a private insurance policy.
The beneficiary wasn't my mother.
Wasn't Miranda.
Wasn't me.
It was Lily.
My daughter.
"Why would Grandpa create an insurance policy for Lily?"
"I don't know."
I looked at the date.
The policy was created six months before his death.
The same month he wrote the letter.
Then I noticed something else.
The policy was worth $5 million.
Five million dollars.
I whispered:
"Why would he insure a six-year-old?"
Hannah looked at me.
"Maybe he wasn't insuring Lily."
"What do you mean?"
"The beneficiary is Lily."
"That's what you said."
"No."
She pointed at the policyholder.
"Look at who owns the policy."
I read the name.
Emily Bennett.
Me.
I felt my blood run cold.
"Grandpa used my name."
Hannah nodded.
"And paid the premiums through the trust."
"For how long?"
"Until two months ago."
I stared at her.
"Who canceled it?"
She turned the page.
The cancellation request had my signature.
Again.
I looked at the date.
The day after Lily was born.
My heart stopped.
I had been in the hospital that day.
I had never signed anything.
Hannah slowly looked up.
"Emily..."
I already knew.
Someone had been signing my name for years.
But now the question was bigger.
May you like
Why?
And what did they stand to gain if something happened to my daughter?
