Chapter 8: The Man Who Knew Too Much
For several seconds after Richard spoke, I couldn’t move.
The farmhouse around me disappeared.
The old wooden floors.
The faded photographs.
The people standing in front of me.
Everything blurred into one impossible thought.
*Grandpa’s attorney.*
The man who was supposed to protect my grandfather’s wishes.
The man who had prepared the trust.
The man who had assured everyone that the documents were legitimate.
The man who had written that my grandfather wanted me protected.
Was somehow involved.
My mother noticed my expression first.
“What happened?””
I lowered the phone slowly.
Richard was still waiting.
“Naomi?””
I swallowed.
“I’ll be there.””
I ended the call.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, my father asked:
“What did he say?””
I looked at him.
“The attorney who handled Grandpa’s trust helped create the documents.””
My mother’s face went pale.
“No.””
The way she said it was different.
Not defensive.
Not guilty.
Afraid.
“You know him?”” I asked.
She looked away.
That tiny movement told me more than words.
“Mom.””
She closed her eyes.
“I know him.””
My stomach tightened.
“How?””
She didn’t answer.
Derek looked between us.
“What’s going on?””
I grabbed my coat.
“I’m going to find out.””
My mother stepped forward.
“Naomi, wait.””
I stopped.
“What?””
Her voice shook.
“There are things you don’t know.””
I almost laughed.
“Apparently, there are a lot of things I don’t know.””
“Please.””
I looked at her.
“For once, I need the truth before I make a decision.””
She nodded slowly.
“I understand.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“You don’t.””
Then I walked out.
Richard’s office was located in an old brick building downtown.
Nothing about it looked dramatic.
No expensive furniture.
No intimidating atmosphere.
Just shelves of legal files and the quiet sound of people working.
But when I walked inside, I felt like I was entering the center of a storm.
Richard stood as soon as he saw me.
“Naomi.””
“Tell me everything.””
He motioned toward the chair.
“Sit down.””
“I don’t want to sit down.””
He studied my face.
Then nodded.
“Fair enough.””
He opened a file.
“The attorney’s name is Martin Wells.””
I recognized the name.
“Grandpa trusted him.””
“Yes.””
“For how long?””
“Almost twenty years.””
That made it worse.
Richard continued.
“Martin handled your grandfather’s business affairs, property records, and estate planning.””
“So why would he help Derek?””
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.””
I looked at the documents on his desk.
“What did he do?””
Richard placed several pages in front of me.
“These are copies of the authorization forms submitted during the attempted sale.””
I looked through them.
The forged signature.
The false approval.
The fake statement claiming I had given permission.
“He prepared these?””
“Yes.””
“How do you know?””
Richard pointed to a signature at the bottom.
“Because Martin signed as the legal witness.””
My hands curled into fists.
“So he knew.””
“He should have known.””
That distinction bothered me.
“What does that mean?””
Richard leaned forward.
“It means he may claim he believed the documents were legitimate.””
“But?””
“But there are inconsistencies.””
“What kind?””
He flipped to another page.
“The signature verification.””
I stared.
“Mine?””
“Yes.””
Richard tapped the paper.
“The documents were submitted with a statement claiming your signature was verified.””
“And?””
“The verification was never completed.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“He signed off that it was verified. But no actual verification process happened.””
A cold feeling moved through me.
“He didn’t just make a mistake.””
“No.””
Richard looked serious.
“He bypassed the process.””
I stood.
“So what now?””
“Now we find out why.””
Later that afternoon, I sat in my car outside my parents’ house.
I didn’t want to go inside.
But I needed answers.
This time, I wasn’t walking in as their daughter.
I was walking in as someone who finally understood she had the right to ask questions.
When I entered, nobody spoke.
My mother sat at the table.
My father stood by the window.
Derek was gone.
Good.
I didn’t need him there.
Not yet.
“Tell me about Martin Wells.””
My mother looked up.
Her face changed.
A mixture of fear and exhaustion.
“I knew you would find out eventually.””
“That’s not an answer.””
She looked down.
“Martin was a friend of your grandfather’s.””
“I know.””
“He helped our family for years.””
“Then why would he help steal from me?””
She closed her eyes.
“I don’t know.””
I stared at her.
“You don’t know?””
“No.””
“Mom, you signed my name.””
She flinched.
“I know.””
“You planned to give away Grandpa’s house.””
“I know.””
“So forgive me if I don’t believe you suddenly know nothing.””
Tears filled her eyes.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.””
That surprised me.
She continued.
“I’m asking you to listen.””
I remained standing.
“Fine.””
She took a breath.
“After your grandfather died, Martin contacted me.””
“When?””
“Two weeks after the funeral.””
“Why?””
She looked uncomfortable.
“He said there were complications with the trust.””
“What complications?””
“He told me Derek had been left out because your grandfather wasn’t thinking clearly.””
My jaw tightened.
“He said that?””
“Yes.””
“And you believed him?””
She looked ashamed.
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Her answer came quietly.
“Because I wanted to.””
That stopped me.
“What?””
She looked at me.
“I wanted to believe there was a reason Derek wasn’t chosen.””
My mother wiped her face.
“I spent years watching him fail. Watching him struggle. Watching him make bad choices.””
She shook her head.
“And every time, I thought, ‘One more chance.’”
I said nothing.
“Then Martin told me Grandpa had made a mistake.””
Her voice cracked.
“And I wanted that to be true.””
The room was silent.
Because for the first time, my mother wasn’t blaming circumstances.
She was admitting she had chosen what she wanted to believe.
“But why forge my signature?””
She looked down.
“Because Martin said the process would be easier.””
My heart sank.
“There it is.””
“What?””
“The part where someone else told you it was okay.””
She started crying.
“I know.””
“No.””
My voice softened slightly.
“You don’t.””
I sat across from her.
“You keep saying you love me.””
“I do.””
“But every time someone tells you something that benefits Derek, you believe them.””
She looked away.
“That’s not fair.””
“No?””
I leaned forward.
“Did you ever ask Grandpa why he chose me?””
She froze.
“No.””
“Did you ever ask me why he trusted me?””
“No.””
“Did you ever wonder if maybe he knew something you didn’t?””
She didn’t answer.
Because she had never asked.
She had already decided.
That evening, I returned to the farmhouse.
I needed space.
But when I opened the door, I found something strange.
A package sitting on the floor.
No name.
No address.
Just a handwritten note.
*Naomi. You deserve the complete truth.*
My heart started racing.
I picked it up carefully.
Inside was a flash drive.
And another letter.
This handwriting wasn’t my grandfather’s.
It was Martin Wells’.
I unfolded it.
*Naomi,*
*If you are reading this, then everything has already gone further than I intended.*
I frowned.
Further than he intended?
I continued.
*I made mistakes. Serious mistakes. But I need you to understand that I did not begin this because I wanted to hurt you.*
I almost threw the letter down.
Everyone had the same excuse.
Nobody wanted to hurt me.
Everyone just happened to destroy my life anyway.
But then I reached the next sentence.
*Your grandfather knew someone would try to take the property after his death. He prepared for it.*
I stopped.
Prepared?
*The condition in the trust was not only about you making a choice. It was also about exposing the people who would attempt to manipulate that choice.*
My breathing slowed.
The house.
The test.
The condition.
It was all connected.
The letter continued.
*Your grandfather asked me to monitor the situation after his death. He suspected Derek would be pressured by someone else.*
Someone else.
Not Derek.
Someone behind him.
Then I read the final paragraph.
*I did not create the false documents to steal from you. I created them because your grandfather asked me to reveal who would participate when they believed you were powerless.*
I stared at the words.
My hands shook.
Because if this was true…
My family wasn’t the beginning of the betrayal.
They were only part of it.
Then the flash drive light blinked.
I plugged it into my laptop.
One folder appeared.
Only one file.
A video.
Recorded by my grandfather.
The date was three days before he died.
I pressed play.
His face appeared on the screen.
Older.
Tired.
But still unmistakably him.
“Naomi,” he said.
My eyes filled instantly.
“If you’re watching this, then I was right.””
He paused.
And the next words made my entire body freeze.
“Your mother is not the person you should be worried about.””
I leaned closer.
My grandfather looked directly into the camera.
“The person who betrayed our family is someone you trust completely.””
The video cut out.
And beneath the file was a name.
The person Grandpa wanted me to investigate.
May you like
Someone I never expected.
My father.
