Inside, I saw Connor Smith and a woman I recognized instantly from the photos, even though we'd never met in person. It was Angela, Scott's business partner, whom he always insisted was just a colleague.
I stood outside, watching every move, my heart pounding. Smith handed over some documents, Connor signed something, and Angela smiled with a confidence that suggested everything was going according to plan.
They left together and got into a dark SUV. The tracker signal moved again, this time toward Brookside, where our house was. I followed them in a taxi, keeping far enough away not to be seen.
From the street corner, I watched Connor unlock the front door with my keys and walk right in as if I'd vanished. I stood outside, trembling, imagining my belongings would be treated like property to be divided up.
I went back to the coffee shop and opened my laptop, determined to follow the only lead Scott had left me. Using the password he gave me, I accessed his email account and searched carefully.
There I found a message scheduled to be sent the next day, addressed directly to me. My hands trembled as I opened it.
"Teresa, if you're reading this, it means Connor tried to exclude you, so don't sign anything and go to mailbox 317 tomorrow because there's a copy of the will and a recording there," the message said.
A chilling realization washed over me, for Scott had foreseen exactly what was going to happen. That meant someone had been planning it long before his death.
The next morning, I arrived at a local bank before it opened and waited until I was allowed inside. After showing my ID and access card, an employee escorted me to a private room.
Inside mailbox 317 I found a USB drive, a folder full of notarized documents, and a handwritten letter. I sat down immediately because my legs could no longer support me.
In the USB drive video, Scott appeared tired but lucid as he looked directly into the camera. “Teresa, I discovered that Smith and Angela were pressuring Connor with promises of total control of the company if he accepted a new will they presented to him as a tax update,” he said.
“I refused, and if I leave and Connor dismisses you, it means they moved on without me,” he continued calmly.
He explained that the valid will was kept separately at a notary's office on Liberty Avenue and that any subsequent document obtained under false pretenses should be legally challenged. I wept as I listened, overwhelmed by the clarity with which he understood my refusal to accept it.
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