Chapter 6 - The Last Conversation With Charles Hartwell
Alexander finally told me the truth.
Three years earlier, Charles had been hospitalized after a serious fall.
Philippa had visited him every day.
Alexander had visited twice.
On the final night, Charles asked to see his grandson alone.
“I was twenty-nine,” Alexander said.
“I thought he wanted to talk about the company.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked me if I trusted my mother.”
I stared at him.
“What did you say?”
“Yes.”
Alexander looked ashamed.
“Charles laughed.”
Then he told me what Charles had said.
Never let Philippa control Isla's money.
Alexander hadn't understood.
He thought his grandfather was simply warning him about family politics.
But Charles had known something.
Something Philippa had been doing behind everyone's backs.
“What happened next?”
“Mom came in.”
“And?”
“She told me Charles was confused.”
“Did you believe her?”
“Yes.”
I looked away.
Seven years.
Seven years I had blamed myself for not confronting Philippa sooner.
But now I realized Alexander had been trained to doubt his own grandfather.
Evelyn found another clue.
A nurse named Margaret Bell.
She had worked at the hospital during Charles's final week.
We found her living in a small town two hours away.
She agreed to meet us.
Margaret was seventy-four and remembered Charles clearly.
“He asked me to witness something,” she said.
“What?”
“A document.”
My pulse quickened.
“What document?”
“His final trust amendment.”
Evelyn leaned forward.
“Was it signed?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“Mr. Hartwell.”
Charles.
Margaret looked at me.
“But there was another woman there.”
“Philippa?”
She nodded.
“She became furious when Mr. Hartwell refused to change the beneficiary.”
“What did she say?”
Margaret hesitated.
Then:
“She said, ‘If you won't change it, I'll find another way.’”
My blood ran cold.
Margaret handed Evelyn an old envelope.
“I kept this because Mr. Hartwell told me someone might need it.”
Inside was a photograph.
Charles was lying in his hospital bed.
Margaret stood beside him.
And on the table was the signed trust amendment.
But in the corner of the photograph was something else.
A second folder.
Marked:
ISLA HARTWELL — CONFIDENTIAL
I stared at it.
“Where is that folder?”
May you like
Margaret shook her head.
“Your mother-in-law took it.”
