Mr. Timothy’s breath hitched as he recalled the moment Philip revealed the document. His hands trembled, but he steadied himself, gripping the armrest of his chair as if holding on to something solid could prevent him from being dragged back into the nightmare of that day.
I leaned forward, my pulse quickening. “What was in the document?” I asked, though I already sensed it was something terrible.
He swallowed hard. “It was a will,” he said hoarsely. “A forged one. It stated that my father had officially transferred all assets—everything—to Philip.”
My breath caught in my throat. “That’s impossible. Your father would never—”
“He didn’t,” Mr. Timothy cut in sharply. His eyes burned with rage and sorrow. “Philip and Rachel worked together to fabricate the document. And by the time I real
