That moment came sooner than I expected. Three days later, I was in my garage room when I heard Nathan shout from upstairs—not in anger, but in shock. “Mom! Mom, you need to come up here right now!” The tone in his voice was so alarmed that I actually ran, my heart pounding with fear that something terrible had happened.
I found him in Gordon’s office, standing at the desk with papers scattered everywhere. In his hands, he held a stack of yellowed documents—Gordon’s original will and trust paperwork. “Mom,” he said, his voice shaking, “this house… all of it… it’s yours. Everything Dad left is in your name. How… how did I not know this?”
I stepped closer, my hand reaching out to touch the familiar slant of Gordon’s handwriting. “Yes,” I said quietly. “Your father wanted to make sure I was protected. He was afraid that if something happened to him, I might end up being hurt by people who didn’t have my best interests at heart.”
Nathan’s face went pale. Before he could respond, Sable appeared in the doorway, her eyes sharp and alert. “What’s going on? What are you two talking about?” She saw the papers in Nathan’s hand and strode forward, snatching them from him with trembling fingers. I watched as her eyes scanned the documents, watched as the color drained from her face, watched as she realized that everything she’d been planning was built on a foundation that didn’t exist.
“This can’t be right,” she said, her voice rising. “You’ve been hiding this. You’ve been pretending to be poor, manipulating us, making us feel guilty—”
“I haven’t been pretending anything,” I interrupted calmly. “I’ve been quiet. There’s a difference. I stayed silent to see what you would do when you thought you had power over me.” I walked to my purse and pulled out a manila envelope. Inside were the printed photographs from the Argonaut Hotel—Sable and Derek Cole, the envelope passing between them, their hands touching. I laid them on the desk next to the will, along with printed copies of her emails about the divorce and the shell company in Dallas.
“Maybe,” I said evenly, “you should read these before you accuse me of deception.”
The room went completely silent except for the ticking of Gordon’s antique clock. Sable picked up the photographs with shaking hands, her eyes widening, her breath coming faster. “You followed me? You spied on me?”
“No,” I said. “I went looking for the truth. And I found it at your yoga class—which turns out is where people sign divorce papers and plan to steal their husband’s inheritance.”
Nathan grabbed the emails, reading them with an expression of growing horror. When he finished, he looked at his wife with eyes full of betrayal and disgust. “Divorce paperwork nearly finished? Waiting on the estate confirmation? What the hell does this mean, Sable?”
She stepped back, her confident facade crumbling. “You don’t understand. It was just a backup plan. I was protecting myself in case—”
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