“I’m not permitted to make accusations,” David said. “But Mrs. Whitaker documented several attempts to take control of her assets, including efforts to place her in a managed-care facility and restrict her access to her own finances.”
My mouth went dry.
“My father told us she was becoming forgetful.”
David’s expression softened.
“The medical reports state otherwise.”
He pushed a sealed envelope toward me.
My name had been written across the front in Grandma’s elegant handwriting.
**For Claire only.**
My hands trembled as I opened it.
Inside was a brief letter.
*Claire, if you are reading this, you were the only one who listened before deciding. That matters more than money. Do not call your father first. Do not trust anyone who mocked what they did not understand. Come see me today. Bring this letter. There are things I must tell you before they find out.*
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped against the floor.
David rose as well.
“Ms. Whitaker, there is one more issue. Your father called the bank thirty minutes ago.”
I froze.
“What did he want?”
“He asked whether anyone had attempted a large transaction from Evelyn Whitaker’s accounts. He claimed he held financial power of attorney.”
“Does he?”
David’s mouth tightened.
“No,” he said. “He does not.”
I drove directly to Grandma’s house with the bank envelope on the passenger seat while my phone vibrated continuously in the cup holder.
Dad called first.
Then Marcus.
Then Aunt Linda.
Then Dad again.
I ignored every call.
