Chapter 2 - The Dirty Tactics
The first week of the preliminary hearings was a bloodbath. Sterling didn’t just attack Arthur’s will; he attacked his character. They subpoenaed Arthur’s medical records, highlighting a minor concussion he suffered at work a decade ago, trying to spin it into early-onset dementia.
They brought in a sleazy private investigator who claimed Arthur was a "recluse" who hoarded properties and manipulated me into staying with him. I sat in the defendant's chair, biting the inside of my cheek until it bled, forcing myself to remember Arthur’s quiet strength. I am not going to abandon you, his voice echoed in my head.
One evening, exhausted and demoralized, I drove to Arthur’s old house. The air inside was stale, smelling faintly of sawdust and the cheap black coffee he drank by the gallon. I walked into his workshop, running my fingers over his tools.
Helen needed evidence. She needed proof of Arthur's state of mind when he signed the adoption papers and the will. I began tearing through his filing cabinets, searching for anything—a journal, a letter, a rational thought committed to paper.
Frustrated, I kicked the leg of his heavy oak workbench. There was a hollow thud.
May you like
I froze. I knelt down, running my hands under the thick wooden bottom. There was a hidden latch. My heart hammered against my ribs as I popped it open, revealing a false bottom. Inside rested a thick, leather-bound ledger and a silver USB drive. I opened the ledger. The first page was dated the exact day I turned eighteen.
“To Leo. If you are reading this, it means I am gone, and Evelyn has come back. I always knew she would, once she smelled the money. Here is everything you need to stop her.”
