Chapter 9 - My Mother Expected Daniel To Protect Me
Daniel refused to believe Carol.
So she forwarded the email.
I watched his face while he read it in the mansion library.
Margaret stood near the fireplace.
Mr. Hayes stayed by the door.
Rebecca's message was short.
If after my death anyone contacts your firm claiming Emma Carter predeceased me, notify Daniel Carter immediately. Do not process any change to the beneficiary history without independent verification.
Daniel read it again.
Then sat.
“Why me?”
Carol answered:
“You were her son.”
His jaw tightened.
Not stepson.
Son.
Rebecca had always called him that.
He was the one who stopped.
I asked:
“Did Carter Legacy contact you?”
Daniel looked up.
“No.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did their later file use a false death certificate?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you ever tell them Mom was wrong to name you as contact?”
“I didn't know she had.”
Carol believed him.
So did I.
Which was inconvenient.
Mr. Hayes said:
“Then someone reactivated an old vendor relationship, used Rebecca's identity, and bypassed her existing instruction.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Who had enough information?”
Several people.
That was the problem.
Carol.
Margaret.
Daniel.
Possibly old vendors.
Possibly anyone with access to Rebecca's devices after death.
Margaret said quietly:
“Her laptop.”
We turned.
“What?”
“Daniel gave it away.”
He looked at her.
“No.”
“You donated it.”
“To the church resale drive.”
Mr. Hayes closed his eyes.
“When?”
“June.”
I stared.
“Did you wipe it?”
Daniel looked insulted.
“Yes.”
“Are you good at wiping computers?”
“No.”
At least.
Mr. Hayes said:
“We are not inventing a cybercrime because a used laptop existed.”
Good.
Daniel looked at the email again.
“Why would she tell them to call me?”
Carol answered:
“Because Rebecca believed you were angry, not criminal.”
Daniel flinched.
“And she thought I'd protect the deed.”
“No.”
Carol shook her head.
“She thought you'd protect Emma.”
Silence.
Daniel laughed once.
“Based on what?”
“You want me to tell them?”
His face changed.
He knew.
I stared.
“What?”
Carol looked at him.
“Daniel.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Fine.”
He looked at me.
“Rebecca asked me something the last time we had a good conversation.”
“What?”
“If you disappeared.”
My stomach tightened.
“Meaning?”
“Not dead. Left.”
“Okay.”
“She asked whether I'd look for you.”
“And?”
“I said yes.”
“Why?”
Daniel looked irritated.
“Because you're my sister.”
The answer hit harder than I expected.
Rebecca had then asked:
“What if Emma doesn't want you to find her?”
Daniel had hated the question.
He told her:
“I'd make sure she was safe first.”
“And then?”
I asked.
He looked away.
“I said I'd leave her alone.”
I almost laughed.
“Did Mom believe you?”
“Apparently.”
Carol said:
“She did.”
That hurt Daniel.
Good and bad.
I asked:
“Then what changed?”
He looked around the house.
“She died.”
Not enough.
“More.”
He stood.
“She died still owning everything Dad built.”
“Again.”
“You asked.”
He paced toward the window.
“I came back here after the funeral and every room was Rebecca.”
“You loved her.”
“Yes.”
“Then why say her name like that?”
“Because grief is disgusting.”
He turned toward me.
“You were gone. Margaret was furious. Arthur told me the deed had transferred.”
“I didn't know.”
“I knew.”
“And?”
“I realized Mom had trusted me to protect you while giving you the one thing I had spent half my life thinking was mine.”
There.
Two truths colliding.
“What did you do?”
“At first? Nothing.”
“For months.”
“Yes.”
“Then October.”
“I called Hollis.”
“Then December.”
“I restarted the challenge.”
“Then the certificate.”
“I did not create it.”
I stared.
“But you used it.”
His face changed.
“What?”
Mr. Hayes looked at him.
Daniel said nothing.
I understood.
“You knew.”
Not who created it.
Enough.
“When did you see the death certificate?”
He looked at the floor.
“December twentieth.”
Two days before it was filed.
Margaret whispered:
“Daniel.”
He continued before anyone could interrupt.
“Hollis sent me a draft packet. The certificate was attached.”
“You knew I wasn't dead.”
“Yes.”
“And you let them file it.”
His voice dropped.
“Yes.”
That was the line.
No more ambiguity about participation.
I stepped closer.
“Why?”
Daniel looked at me.
“I thought it would freeze everything.”
“What?”
“The title.”
“By committing fraud.”
“I thought the certificate would be challenged immediately.”
“That makes it better?”
“No.”
He snapped.
“I know it doesn't.”
“Then why?”
“Because Arthur told us you were coming.”
“And?”
“I had forty-eight hours before you walked into this house as owner.”
“So you wanted time.”
“Yes.”
“To do what?”
His face tightened.
“Keep you from selling before I could make you listen.”
I stared.
The house had taught my brother that if somebody could leave, the answer was to make leaving harder.
May you like
Rebecca had trusted him to protect me from exactly that.
And he had betrayed her trust because he could not stand what she trusted me to decide.
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