Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Knew Everything
Evelyn subpoenaed the trust records.
Philippa responded within forty-eight hours.
She arrived at our house with two attorneys.
She didn't knock.
She walked in as if she still owned everything.
“Claire.”
I stood in the living room.
“Philippa.”
She looked around.
“Where is Alexander?”
“Working.”
“He needs to be here.”
“No.”
Her lawyer stepped forward.
“We're here regarding the Hartwell family trust.”
“I know.”
“You have no authority to interfere with it.”
I smiled.
“Actually, I do.”
I held up the original document.
“This says Isla is the beneficiary.”
Philippa's expression changed.
“You stole that.”
“No.”
“You have no idea what you're doing.”
“I know exactly what I'm doing.”
Her lawyer cleared his throat.
“Mrs. Hartwell, this can be resolved privately.”
I looked at him.
“Your client slapped a child at her birthday party.”
His eyes dropped.
“She did.”
“Then she destroyed property belonging to that child.”
He said nothing.
“And now you're asking me to quietly resolve an eight-million-dollar discrepancy?”
Philippa stepped forward.
“You ungrateful woman.”
I didn't move.
“You spent seven years humiliating my daughter.”
“She isn't a Hartwell heir.”
I held up the trust.
“Charles Hartwell disagreed.”
Philippa's face went white.
“You don't understand what Charles wanted.”
“I understand what he wrote.”
She suddenly smiled.
It was the same smile she had worn after destroying Isla's cake.
“You think you're going to beat me with paperwork?”
“No.”
I pointed toward the hallway.
“My attorney has already sent copies to the bank.”
Philippa's smile disappeared.
“The accounts are frozen.”
She whispered something to her lawyer.
He looked alarmed.
Then I saw it.
Fear.
Real fear.
Philippa Hartwell had spent decades making everyone else afraid.
For the first time, she was the one afraid.
Then she said something I hadn't expected.
“Ask your husband where he was the night Charles died.”
I froze.
“What?”
Philippa smiled.
“You think this started after the funeral.”
She stepped closer.
“It started before.”
Then she walked out.
I immediately called Alexander.
He answered.
“Claire?”
“Where were you the night your grandfather died?”
Silence.
“Why are you asking?”
“Because your mother says this started before the funeral.”
Another silence.
Then Alexander whispered:
“She knows about the hospital.”
My heart stopped.
May you like
“What hospital?”
He didn't answer.
