Chapter 8: The Missing Will
The next morning, nobody talked about Karen’s disappearance.
Because that was exactly what happened.
She left Lucille’s house after that phone call.
No threats.
No final warning.
No dramatic speech.
Just fear in her eyes.
And that scared me more than anger ever could.
People like Karen didn’t run.
Unless something was chasing them.
Thomas spent the morning making calls.
Rachel arrived before noon.
She looked exhausted.
“I found him.””
Everyone turned.
Thomas stood.
“Who?””
“The person who had the original copy.””
Rachel placed a folder on the table.
I stared at it.
“Where was it?””
She looked at me.
“Hidden.””
“By who?””
Rachel hesitated.
Then:
“Your father.””
I frowned.
“Why would Dad hide his own will?””
“Because he knew someone might try to change it.””
I remembered the letter.
My father had expected this.
He had planned for it.
Rachel opened the folder.
Inside was a sealed document.
No missing pages.
No altered signatures.
No black marks.
Just the truth.
She looked at me.
“Your father left instructions that this should only be opened if Karen tried to take control of your inheritance.””
My hands shook.
“So he knew.””
“Yes.””
“He knew she would do this.””
Rachel nodded.
“Your father suspected she had been manipulating him for years.””
I stared at the document.
“Then why didn’t he leave her?””
Thomas answered quietly.
“Because of you.””
I looked up.
“What?””
“He was afraid.””
“Of her?””
“No.””
Thomas looked at me.
“He was afraid of what would happen to you.””
I didn’t understand.
“He thought if he confronted her too soon, she would disappear.””
My stomach turned.
“Like my mom.””
Nobody corrected me.
Rachel opened the will.
The first pages were normal.
Assets.
Property.
Business ownership.
Then we reached the final section.
The part that mattered.
*In the event of my death, all personal assets and family trust funds shall be transferred to my son, Matthew Whitaker.*
I stared.
My father had left everything to me.
Not Karen.
Not anyone else.
Me.
But then I saw something else.
A second paragraph.
*However, control of these assets shall remain protected until Matthew reaches adulthood by the appointed guardian.*
I looked at Rachel.
“Guardian?””
She nodded.
I turned the page.
The name was there.
I stopped breathing.
*Thomas Whitaker.*
My uncle.
I looked at him.
“You?””
Thomas looked down.
“Yes.””
“But Karen said—”
“She lied.””
“Why?””
“Because if she convinced you I was dangerous, you would never trust me.””
That was exactly what she wanted.
Divide everyone.
Keep control.
I read further.
Then I found something strange.
A handwritten note attached.
Not part of the official will.
My father’s words.
Thomas, if you failed to protect him, I need you to forgive yourself.
I looked at my uncle.
His eyes were wet.
“She knew.””
I frowned.
“Who?””
“Your father.””
Thomas sat down.
“He knew I blamed myself.””
“For what?””
Thomas looked away.
“For not saving your mother.””
The room became quiet.
I waited.
Finally, he spoke.
“The night your mother died, she called me.””
My heart stopped.
“What?””
“She told me Karen was dangerous.””
“Then why didn’t you stop her?””
His voice cracked.
“Because I didn’t believe her.””
The confession hurt more than I expected.
“She was scared.””
“Yes.””
“And you ignored her.””
“Yes.””
Thomas looked at the floor.
“I thought she was overreacting.””
Nobody spoke.
“I thought I knew Karen.””
He shook his head.
“I didn’t.””
I looked at the will again.
My father had trusted Thomas despite everything.
That meant something.
A knock came from the door.
Everyone froze.
Rachel looked through the window.
A woman stood outside.
Older.
Wearing a gray coat.
She looked familiar.
Then I realized.
It was the woman from the photograph.
Karen’s first husband’s wife?
No.
Someone else.
Someone connected to the missing pieces.
Rachel opened the door.
The woman stepped inside.
“I’m sorry.””
Her voice trembled.
“I didn’t know where else to go.””
Thomas stared.
“Who are you?””
The woman looked at me.
Then whispered:
“I knew your mother.””
My heart raced.
“How?””
She looked down.
“Because I was there the night she died.””
Nobody moved.
Thomas’s face went pale.
“That’s impossible.””
The woman shook her head.
“No.””
She reached into her bag.
“I kept quiet because Karen threatened my family.””
She pulled out an old recording device.
“I should have spoken years ago.””
She placed it on the table.
Then pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then a voice.
My mother’s voice.
Everyone froze.
The recording was old.
But clear.
And my mother sounded terrified.
“If you’re hearing this, it means I was right.””
A pause.
Then:
“Michael, Karen knows about the account.””
I grabbed the table.
The account.
What account?
My mother continued:
“She knows the money isn’t yours.””
The room went silent.
May you like
Then she said the words that changed everything.
“She knows Matthew is the rightful owner.””
