Chapter 2: The Folder
Part 2 👇
I sat in my car for exactly four minutes.
Not crying.
Not shaking.
Just thinking.
Through the pavilion window, I could see Linda accepting congratulations from guests who hadn't left yet — laughing, touching arms, acting like she hadn't just smashed a cake into her pregnant daughter-in-law's face.
Daniel stood beside her.
Not looking for me.
Not following me out.
Standing beside her.
I pulled out my phone and made one call.
"Carol," I said when my attorney picked up.
"I need the property documents.
All of them.
How fast can you get here?"
"Emma, it's a Saturday."
"I know.
How fast?"
A pause.
"Forty minutes."
"Thank you."
I walked back inside.
The room went quiet the moment I stepped through the door.
Linda turned slowly, and for the first time all afternoon, her smile flickered.
"You came back to apologize?" she said.
"No." I set my purse on the nearest table.
"I came back to wait."
Daniel stepped forward.
"Emma, please.
Not here."
"You had your chance to stop this, Daniel.
You chose not to."
Linda's voice dropped.
"You have nothing.
Everything here is my son's."
I looked at her calmly.
"Carol is on her way."
Linda's face changed.
Because she knew that name.
Carol had handled my grandmother's estate.
Carol had been at our wedding.
And Linda had once overheard a conversation she was never supposed to hear — a conversation about exactly whose name was on every deed, every title, every account.
She had never asked about it directly.
Until now.
"What," Linda said slowly, "has Carol got to do with anything?"
May you like
I didn't answer.
Because thirty-eight minutes later, Carol walked through that pavilion door carrying a manila folder — and everything Linda thought she knew was about to collapse.
