“Page four.”
I pulled the envelope toward me and opened it.
Inside were copies of court filings, property transfer records, and a photograph of Matthew in a suit standing next to a woman I’d never seen.
They were in front of a courthouse.
She looked happy.
“She trusted him too,” I said.
“Everyone does.
That’s the whole point.” Diane’s voice cracked.
“I tried to warn Catherine.
I was too late.
By the time I found out what they were doing, the papers were already signed.
I tried to help her after.
But she was broken.
She moved away.
I don’t even know where she is now.”
I looked at the documents spread across the table.
Matthew’s signature.
His mother’s signature as a witness.
The same lawyer’s name on both prenups.
“Why are you helping me now?” I asked.
Diane wiped her eyes.
“Because I watched it happen once and I couldn’t stop it.
I’m not watching it again.”
I gathered the papers.
“What exactly are they planning for the anniversary dinner?”
“Mom has a new document.
She calls it a ‘family trust agreement.’ It looks like estate planning.
It’s really a transfer of ownership.
Once you sign it, your grandmother’s house, your savings, everything — it all goes into a trust that Matthew controls.
And once it’s in the trust, you can’t undo it.
Not without a fight you probably can’t afford.”
“Has he said anything else?
On calls, in messages?”
Diane hesitated.
“There’s one more thing.
And you’re not going to want to hear it.”
“Tell me.”
“Matthew has a second phone.
A burner.
He keeps it in his office at the house.
There are messages on it — between him and Mom going back years.
Planning.
Timing.
Everything.
If you can get that phone, you have everything you need.”
I thought about the house.
About his office.
About the man I’d trusted since I was five years old.
“When is the last time you checked his office?”
“I’ve never been in there without him home,” I said.
“He keeps it locked.”
Diane reached into her bag again and pulled out a small silver key.
“He gave me a spare years ago.
Before he cut me off.
I kept it.”
I took the key.
It was warm from her hand.
“The anniversary dinner is in three days,” I said.
“Then we have three days.”
—
That night, I went home.
Matthew’s car wasn’t in the driveway yet.
I went straight to his office.
