Chapter 10
1503 Words
I barely slept.
My father's words replayed in my mind over and over through the night, refusing to let me rest.
"Can you come home tomorrow? There's something your mother and I need to tell you about Bella."
I woke before my alarm, staring at the ceiling in the gray light of early morning, turning the sentence over and over as if repetition might reveal what it actually meant.
What could possibly be important enough that he hadn't been able to say it the day before, standing right there in the kitchen?
Before I left my apartment, I noticed the small brass key resting on the counter where I'd set it the night before.
Without thinking too much about it, I slipped it into my handbag.
I still didn't know why I kept carrying it with me everywhere.
Perhaps because, right now, it was the only thing Bella had left behind that truly felt like it belonged to me.
The cab ride to my parents' house did nothing to settle my thoughts.
Maybe my father had found something among Bella's belongings. Maybe someone had remembered a detail they'd forgotten to mention before. Maybe, just maybe, my parents were finally ready to believe I hadn't caused Bella's death.
I clung to every possibility except the one that was actually waiting for me.
My father opened the door almost the instant I knocked. He looked exhausted, the kind of exhaustion that settles into a person when sleep has become a stranger they no longer recognize.
He welcomed me inside quietly, and the house felt just as heavy as it had the morning before.
Only now, the tension felt different. Not angry. Expectant.
My mother was already seated in the living room.
She didn't greet me when I walked in, but she didn't turn away either.
Her eyes were swollen, clearly from crying, and for several long moments none of us said a word.
The silence stretched until it became almost unbearable.
Finally my father cleared his throat.
"Lena," he said.
He paused, folding his hands together before he continued.
"I owe you an explanation," he said.
I waited, my heart pounding against my ribs.
"I asked you to come because our family attorney will be here shortly," he said.
"A lawyer?" I asked.
He nodded.
"It's time for Isabella's estate to be settled," he said.
I blinked.
I hadn't even thought about Bella's estate, hadn't let myself consider everything she'd worked so hard to build, everything she'd owned.
Hearing it spoken aloud made it suddenly, painfully real.
My father looked at me gently.
"Your mother and I didn't think you should hear this from anyone else," he said.
My mother lowered her eyes but said nothing at all.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang.
My father rose to answer it, and Daniel Brooks stepped inside, carrying a worn leather briefcase.
He'd been our family's attorney for nearly twenty years, and I'd known him since I was a child, though I'd never once imagined sitting across from him under circumstances like this.
He offered quiet condolences before taking his seat, then opened his briefcase and arranged several folders across the coffee table.
"I know none of us imagined meeting under these circumstances," he said gently.
"But Isabella updated her final will shortly before her passing, and it is now my responsibility to carry out her legal instructions."
The room grew even quieter than before.
"Mr. Ashford informed me he was running a few minutes behind," he said.
"I think we've waited long enough."
He explained that Bella had signed a new will three days before her death.
The date caught me immediately, snagging on something in my chest I couldn't name.
Three days earlier, Bella had still been planning her wedding as though the future was certain.
Still answering work emails, still laughing over dinner with the rest of us.
Nothing about those days had suggested a woman preparing for the end of her life.
Daniel began reading.
The opening sections were exactly what I expected. Several charitable donations in Bella's name.
Certain family photographs to remain with my parents.
Pieces of jewelry, the ones carrying real sentimental weight, left to various relatives.
For several minutes, everything felt ordinary.
Almost comforting.
I let myself wonder if this was simply the closure my father had wanted me to have, One final chance to say goodbye to the life she'd left behind.
Then Daniel reached the final page.
His voice grew quieter.
He adjusted his glasses before continuing.
"I hereby revoke all previous versions of my Last Will and Testament," he read.
The room stilled.
He read the next line.
"I leave the entirety of my estate to my sister, Elena Hart."
Silence swallowed the room whole.
No one moved.
Even the clock ticking on the mantel suddenly sounded impossibly loud, each second stretching longer than it should have.
Only then did Daniel continue.
"The estate includes Ms. Hart's personal bank accounts, investment portfolio, condominium on Lakeshore Drive, company shares and financial interests related to her position as Director of Marketing at Beaumont House, her vehicle, and all remaining personal assets listed within the estate inventory," he said.
I stared at him, the words barely registering.
The condominium.
For one brief moment, I forgot everything else in that room.
The apartment Nathan had helped me clear after Bella died hadn't been her only home.
That had been the small furnished studio she rented during the week, close to her office downtown.
The condominium on Lakeshore Drive was different, something she'd bought years earlier, long before her promotion had demanded those longer hours.
Rather than selling it, she'd kept it as an investment, always insisting good property was worth holding onto no matter what.
She and Adrian had planned to decide what to do with it after the wedding.
None of it explained why she'd left everything to me instead.
"I'm sorry," I finally whispered. "There has to be some mistake."
Daniel shook his head gently.
"There isn't," he said.
He explained that Bella had met with him personally, had signed every page herself, that two independent witnesses had been present, that the documents were properly notarized and legally filed.
"There is no accompanying explanation," he said quietly.
"Miss Hart was under no legal obligation to explain her decision.
My responsibility is only to ensure that her legally binding wishes are carried out."
Only Bella knew why she'd made those changes, and Bella wasn't here to tell any of us.
My father lowered his head.
My mother gripped the armrest of her chair so tightly her knuckles lost all color.
I felt the floor disappear beneath me entirely.
No one questioned the validity of the document. No one argued with Daniel.
The silence itself became an acknowledgment that the will was real, legally binding, and impossible to explain, leaving us all trapped inside the same impossible question.
Bella loved Adrian. She adored our parents.
Why would she leave everything to me?
Another knock echoed through the house before I could find any kind of answer.
My father rose again and opened the door, and Adrian stepped inside, apologizing quietly for being delayed.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the room somehow grew even heavier than before.
He noticed the expressions around him immediately.
"What happened?" he asked.
No one answered him.
Daniel silently removed another copy of the will from his briefcase and slid it across the table.
Adrian looked from one face to another before finally picking it up, his eyes moving slowly across the final page.
The color drained from his face. His fingers tightened around the paper until the edges crumpled slightly beneath his grip.
"She changed it," he finally said, his voice barely rising above a whisper.
"Three days before she died."
No one answered him either, because none of us understood it any better than he did.
Daniel carefully returned the remaining documents to his briefcase.
"The probate process will now begin," he said.
"There are still legal procedures that must be completed before the estate can be formally transferred, but today's reading officially begins that process."
He placed a sealed folder in front of me.
"These are your copies," he said.
I didn't reach for it right away. It didn't feel like an inheritance sitting there on the table. It felt like another accusation, waiting to be opened.
Outside, once everything was finally over, I climbed into another cab, holding the folder tightly in my lap without ever opening it.
As the cab pulled away, I watched my childhood home disappear through the rear window, growing smaller with every passing second.
Yesterday, I had believed time would eventually prove my innocence.
Today, my own sister's final decision had handed the world the perfect reason to believe I was guilty.
I understood something terrifying as the house vanished from view. Clearing my name might no longer be enough.
Because now I had the one thing everyone believed I had all along.
A motive.
- Writer
