Chapter 4 - The House of CardsThe law firm of Brenner & Associates was dimly lit, save for the penthouse office where the "inheritance" was to be settled. Grant and Tessa were already there, sitting across from David Brenner, looking impatient.
"Where is the inventory?" Grant demanded, his suit perfectly pressed. "I have a flight to catch in the morning."
"The inventory is quite extensive, Mr. Whitmore," Brenner said, his voice measured. "But there is a complication. A legal addendum filed by Mrs. Whitmore exactly three days before her passing."
Grant stiffened. "An addendum? I was her husband. Why wouldn't she discuss this with me?"
"Because," I said, stepping into the light of the doorway, "you were too busy deciding which funeral flowers would best match Tessa’s complexion."
The room shattered.
Tessa let out a choked sound, her face turning a shade of white I hadn't seen since the chemotherapy ward. Grant stood up so abruptly he knocked his chair over. He stared at me, his mouth working silently, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and disbelief.
"Claire?" he croaked.
"Claire is dead," I said, walking toward the desk. I looked at Tessa, who looked like she was about to faint. "She died the moment you decided her life was an inconvenience to your bank account."
I laid a stack of documents on the desk. "These are the bank statements from the Cayman accounts. These are the audio recordings of your conversations regarding the ‘expedited departure.’ And this," I pointed to the private investigator who stepped from the shadows, "is a witness to your solicitation of a hitman."
May you like
Grant’s bravado vanished, replaced by the cornered-animal look I had waited months to see. "This is a setup! You’re—you’re a fraud! You’re dead!"
"I’m very much alive," I said, leaning over the desk until I was inches from his trembling face. "And you, Grant, are a widower whose wife is very much interested in reclaiming every cent she ever earned."
