Chapter 2 - The Unwelcome Guests
After the burial, the gloomy sky broke into a relentless, pouring rain. We gathered at Katherine’s sprawling, modern house in Scottsdale—the house she had designed and paid for with her own sweat and tears. The atmosphere inside was stifling, heavy with unsaid words and fake sympathies. Heather didn't even try to hide her comfort. She kicked off her designer heels, wandered through the living room barefoot, and helped herself to the premium coffee Katherine imported from Italy. She opened kitchen drawers and rearranged items as if she already held the deed to the property. It took everything in my power not to drag her out by her hair.
Tanya clung to my leg, terrified of the loud voices and the crowd of strangers. “The best thing for Tanya is to stay with me,” Bradley said loudly, making sure the remaining guests heard him. He offered a pathetic, rehearsed sigh. “She needs her father now more than ever.” I pulled my granddaughter closer to me, shielding her from his empty eyes. “I’m her grandmother,” I said firmly. “She feels safe with me.”
“And he’s her biological father,” Heather replied smoothly, sipping her coffee with a cold, predatory curve of her lips. “Besides, Katherine made all the financial arrangements. We are fully prepared to take over.”
Before I could answer—before I could tell them they wouldn't get a single penny—the heavy mahogany doorbell rang. The room fell silent as the front door swung open and Raymond Hughes, Katherine’s longtime corporate attorney, stepped inside. He wiped the rain from his coat, his face set in stone, carrying a battered black briefcase. From it, he pulled out a thick, sealed manila envelope and a small USB drive, securely sealed inside a clear police evidence bag.
Bradley’s fake relaxed posture instantly vanished. “Whatever this is, it can wait,” he said sharply, taking a step toward the lawyer. “We are grieving.”
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“No,” Raymond replied, his voice echoing in the quiet living room. “Katherine was very clear about the timeline of this execution. She specifically instructed me to read this today. Here. In front of both of you.” He broke the thick red wax seal on the envelope. Across the top of the handwritten letter were bold, black words that instantly froze the air in the room: “For my mother, for Tanya, and for those who believed my death would make them rich.”
Heather’s smug face lost all its color in a fraction of a second, her coffee cup trembling in her hands. Bradley lunged forward, shouting, “Give me that! You have no right to read her private thoughts without my permission!” Raymond didn’t flinch. “If you touch this document, Bradley,” Raymond said with lethal calmness, “the exact same copy, which was already delivered to the Maricopa County prosecutor’s office this morning, will be opened immediately.” Bradley froze mid-step, his jaw working furiously. The room was so quiet I could hear the rain lashing against the glass windows as Raymond adjusted his glasses and began to read.
