PART 5

There were descriptions of arguments.

Photographs of me crying.

Photos of my car parked outside a therapist’s office.

Notes about my sleep.

Notes about medication I had taken for anxiety after Jonah was born.

Everything Richard had later used in court.

He had been building a case against me before I even knew there was a case.

My throat tightened.

I remembered the day he first told me I seemed “overwhelmed.”

I remembered laughing and saying, “Of course I’m overwhelmed. We have two children.”

He had kissed my forehead.

“You should talk to someone.”

I thought he was worried about me.

He was collecting evidence.

I closed my eyes.

For eighteen months I had been asking myself what I had done wrong.

Now another question began replacing it.

What had Richard been planning?

I opened the next folder.

It contained copies of emails between Richard and his attorney.

Most were heavily redacted.

But one wasn’t.

The subject line was:

Custody Strategy

I read it twice.

Then again.

Richard had written:

If we establish that Miranda is emotionally unstable, we can control the custody arrangement. I don’t want the children removed from her completely. That would look aggressive. I want her isolated enough that she accepts whatever financial settlement we offer.

I covered my mouth.

There was another sentence.

Once she leaves the house, the property dispute becomes easier.

The house.

I stared at that line.

What property dispute?

The marital house was worth a lot.

But he already had it.

Why would he need me isolated?

I opened another file.

And there it was.

A financial disclosure.

My name was listed on an asset I had never heard of.

Bellamy Family Trust — Beneficiary: Miranda Vance

Value:

$2,870,000.

I stopped breathing.

No.

That couldn’t be right.

My mother had left me the country house.

A few pieces of jewelry.

Some furniture.

That was all I knew.

I clicked the supporting document.

The trust had been created eighteen years earlier.

My mother was the trustee.

The beneficiary was me.

And the trust was connected to land.

The land I thought was worth almost nothing.

The land Richard had tried to purchase for $82,000.

I kept scrolling.

The trust owned timber rights.

Water rights.

Mineral rights.

And a conservation easement that generated annual payments.

The current estimated value was nearly $3 million.

My mother hadn’t been poor.

She had been careful.

She hadn’t left me a rundown country house.

She had left me an asset protected from my marriage.

And somehow Richard knew.

I looked again at the divorce decree sitting on the counter.

The document stated that marital assets had been divided.

The country property had not been included because it was listed as “separate inherited property.”

Richard had never challenged it.

Why?

Because he thought I was too ignorant to understand what I owned?

Or because he believed he could get it later?

A noise outside made me jump.

Gravel.

A vehicle.

I froze.

The old house had no neighbors close enough for casual visitors.

I slowly walked to the window.

A black SUV had stopped at the end of the driveway.

My heart began pounding.

The driver’s door opened.

A man stepped out.

Tall.

Dark coat.

He looked toward the house.

I knew him.

Daniel Mercer.

Richard’s business partner.

My first instinct was to hide.

My second was to lock the doors.

My third was to call the police.

Instead, I stood there watching him walk toward the porch.

He knocked.

Three slow knocks.

Then waited.

I didn’t answer.

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART….