Chapter 3 - THE NIGHT MY MOTHER FINALLY SPOKE
Skylar pounded on the door.
“Rowan, open up.”
I placed the metal case in the bedroom closet, slid the folders into my duffel bag, and started the recorder on my phone before removing the chain.
Skylar pushed past me without waiting.
She wore black leggings beneath a camel coat and boots that had never touched dirt before that night.
Mom followed more slowly, pale and anxious.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Skylar scanned the room.
“Mom was worried about you.”
“Mom has my phone number.”
“You didn’t answer.”
I checked my screen.
There were no missed calls.
Skylar walked toward the mantel and lifted the photograph of Dad and Adelaide.
“Where did this come from?”
“It was here.”
“There used to be nothing in this place.”
“You’ve been here recently?”
She set the frame down too quickly.
“When we were children.”
Mom stood near the door, staring at the section of floor I had opened.
Skylar followed her gaze.
“What did you find?”
“Why would I find anything?”
“Because Dad hid things here.”
Her answer came too fast.
I folded my arms.
“What things?”
“Old papers. Worthless family records.”
“Then why did you drive through the night to get them?”
She laughed, but there was no confidence in it.
“You always think you’re conducting an interrogation.”
“Occupational habit.”
“This isn’t one of your military investigations.”
“Then answer the question.”
Skylar looked at Mom.
“Tell her.”
Mom’s lips trembled.
“Your father may have kept documents related to the Nashville apartment here.”
“The apartment he left to Skylar?”
“Yes.”
“Why would those documents be under my floor?”
“We don’t know that they are,” Skylar snapped.
I looked at her.
“Dad recorded a message for me.”
The blood drained from her face.
“What message?”
“He said you intercepted his calls.”
Mom closed her eyes.
Skylar recovered quickly.
“He was dying. He was confused and paranoid.”
“He said you took out a loan against the apartment using his power of attorney.”
Mom whispered, “Rowan.”
“Did you know?”
She looked at the floor.
That was answer enough.
“You knew she stole from him?”
“It wasn’t that simple.”
“It was exactly that simple,” Skylar said. “The apartment was going to be mine eventually.”
“Dad was still alive.”
“And he had more money than he knew what to do with.”
“So you forged his authorization?”
“I had power of attorney.”
“For his medical care, not personal investment loans.”
Skylar’s expression hardened.
“You don’t understand what I sacrificed.”
“Explain it.”
“I stayed. You left.”
“You keep saying that as if the Army kidnapped me.”
“You chose a career over this family.”
“And you chose their money over all of us.”
She stepped closer.
“Dad trusted me with his care.”
“He asked you for his phone, and you refused.”
Skylar looked at Mom again.
“Are you just going to stand there?”
Mom pressed one hand against her chest.
“Skylar, stop.”
My sister stared at her.
Mom had never spoken to her in that tone.
“What?”
“I said stop.”
“She’s attacking me.”
“No,” Mom said. “She’s asking questions you should have answered years ago.”
The cabin became silent.
Skylar’s mouth opened.
Mom walked toward the kitchen table and gripped the back of a chair.
“I knew about the loan,” she told me. “Your father discovered it after a bank notice arrived at the house.”
“Why didn’t he report her?”
“Because I begged him not to.”
Her voice broke.
“Skylar said Brent would repay everything. She said an investigation would destroy her career and her engagement prospects. I told your father families don’t send their children to prison.”
“So Dad paid it.”
Mom nodded.
“He sold part of his company.”
Skylar rolled her eyes. “A minority interest. He was fine.”
Mom turned on her.
“He was not fine.”
Skylar recoiled.
“The stress damaged his heart,” Mom continued. “His cardiologist told him to avoid another crisis, but you kept asking for money. You kept bringing him documents. You kept telling him Rowan would take everything if he didn’t act first.”
Skylar’s voice rose.
“Because she would.”
“I never asked Dad for anything,” I said.
“That was your trick. You acted noble so he would feel guilty.”
“You kept me from saying goodbye to him.”
For the first time, her face showed something other than anger.
Guilt.
It disappeared quickly.
“He was barely conscious.”
“He made a recording.”
“Then give it to me.”
“No.”
She moved toward my bag.
I stepped between them.
“Don’t.”
Skylar stopped.
She knew my warning was not theatrical.
“Those records involve my property,” she said.
“The Nashville apartment is yours. The documents inside this cabin are not.”
“You don’t even know what you have.”
“An eighteen-million-dollar trust is a decent beginning.”
Mom sank into the chair.
Skylar went completely still.
“What did you say?”
“The land, mineral rights, company interest, and annual royalties belong to the trust.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Dad would never leave you that much.”
“He did.”
“No. Marcus manipulated him.”
“Dad spent three days here preparing everything.”
She looked around wildly, as if the walls themselves had betrayed her.
“The Nashville apartment was supposed to be part of the larger estate.”
“It was restitution for the money Dad used to cover your illegal loan.”
“That’s a lie.”
“It’s in his recording.”
Her breathing quickened.
“You think you won?”
“This was never a contest.”
“It has always been a contest.”
The honesty of the sentence shocked even her.
Mom began crying quietly.
Skylar reached into her handbag and pulled out a folded document.
“Then explain this.”
She threw it onto the table.
It appeared to be a revised trust amendment, signed two months before Dad’s death.
According to the document, all Ozark assets had been transferred to a new family partnership managed jointly by Mom and Skylar.
My name appeared only once.
Beneath a clause declaring that I had voluntarily renounced my claim.
The signature looked almost exactly like mine.
Skylar smiled again.
“You didn’t inherit anything.”
I studied the page.
Then I noticed the date.
I had been deployed overseas that entire month.
Dad’s signature looked wrong too.
The letters were stiff and uneven.
“Where did you get this?”
“Dad signed it.”
Mom stood abruptly.
“No, he didn’t.”
Skylar turned.
Mom stared at the document in horror.
“Robert couldn’t hold a pen by then.”
Skylar’s face changed.
Mom looked at me.
“His right hand was paralyzed after the stroke.”
I slowly picked up the forged amendment.
May you like
Skylar had not driven to the cabin because she feared I might discover the truth.
She had come to replace it.
