Chapter 6: What Vanessa Had Already Moved
David Ashworth arrived at the house at half past ten.
He was older than I expected — late sixties, silver-haired, the kind of man who moved through rooms without rushing, as if time had agreed to wait for him.
He shook my father's hand in the front hallway and then looked at me with an expression that was not pity and not sympathy but something more useful than both.
"You must be Elena," he said.
"Your father has told me about the folder.
I'd like to see everything you have."
We sat at the dining room table — the same table where Vanessa had set down her designer bags the evening before.
My father sat to my left.
David sat across from us with a leather notebook open in front of him.
Vanessa had taken Chloe and Marcus upstairs, which was the first time in six years she had removed herself from a room at someone else's request.
David went through the folder page by page, asking quiet, precise questions.
"This amendment to the trust — the one adding Vanessa as secondary administrator — do you know if your father signed this willingly?"
My father looked up.
"I signed it.
She told me it was routine.
That it was required by the trust's governing document to name a co-administrator in case of her husband's incapacitation."
"And did you have independent counsel review it at the time?"
A pause.
"No."
David made a note.
"The original trust was established by Elena's maternal grandparents.
Are there surviving family members on that side?"
"My grandmother," I said.
"My mother's mother.
She lives in Edinburgh."
"Has she been informed of any of this?"
I shook my head.
David made another note.
Then he turned to page seven and was quiet for a full minute.
"The Cornwall property," he said finally.
"This transfer was executed fourteen months ago." He looked at my father.
"Were you aware of this transaction?"
"No."
"Did you sign anything related to VCM Holdings?"
"Not knowingly."
David closed the folder and folded his hands on top of it.
"Richard, I need you to understand something.
The trust withdrawals and the property transfer are two separate legal issues.
The trust is the cleaner case — there are clear records, clear amounts, and the amendment adding Vanessa as administrator appears to have been obtained under false pretense.
That is recoverable."
"And the cottage?"
"More complicated.
If the transfer paperwork carries your signature — even a digitally reproduced one — we'll need a forensic document examiner." He paused.
"But not impossible."
My father nodded slowly.
"There's something else," I said.
Both men looked at me.
"Last night.
After you spoke to Vanessa." I kept my voice even.
"I heard her make a phone call from the guest office.
Around midnight.
I couldn't hear most of it.
But she said — *it's time.
Tonight.*"
David's pen stopped moving.
"She was calling someone," I said.
"And whatever she was asking them to do, she needed it done before morning."
David looked at my father.
"Is there anything in this house that should be secured?
Any original documents, anything related to Elena's mother's estate, anything held physically rather than digitally?"
My father stood up immediately.
He went down the hallway toward his study.
He was back in forty-five seconds.
"My filing cabinet," he said.
"The bottom drawer.
I keep originals of every estate document in there." He stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame.
"The lock has been forced.
The drawer is empty."
Nobody spoke.
David uncapped his pen again.
"I'm calling the police," he said simply.
From upstairs, I heard Chloe's voice — thin, confused, asking something I couldn't make out.
And then I heard Vanessa's voice answering her.
Calm.
Light.
May you like
Almost cheerful.
The sound of a woman who had already moved everything she needed to move before the locksmith arrived.
