“It’s about Dad.”
She arrived ninety minutes later.
When I showed her the letter, her face went white.
She read it twice without speaking.
Then she sat down heavily.
“I knew it.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“I knew there was something wrong with that accident.”
“Hannah—”
“No, Mom.
You never listened.”
Her voice cracked.
“The police said Dad was speeding.
But I found something in his office a week before he died.”
“What did you find?”
“A folder.”
She swallowed.
“It had bank statements, property records, and a photograph of Miles standing beside a man I’d never seen before.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.
After the funeral, Miles helped clean Dad’s office.
The folder disappeared.”
I stared at her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You told me I was imagining things because I didn’t want anyone replacing Dad.”
