“Eliza,” my mother said from the tablet, “if you are watching this, then I am gone, and Harrison has decided the danger is real.”
I looked at Harrison.
He remained still, both hands resting on the desk.
On the screen, my mother sat in her study at the vineyard.
She wore the blue cardigan she always reached for when she was cold.
The curtains were open behind her, and the afternoon light turned the rows of vines gold.
She looked tired.
She did not look uncertain.
“I need you to listen without defending anyone,” she continued.
“Grief has made you generous with people who have not earned your trust.”
My throat tightened.
Garrett’s voice from the kitchen repeated in my head.
Once I get access to those accounts, we’re set.
My mother lifted the sealed envelope toward the camera.
“For the past four months, I have been documenting contacts between Garrett Pierce and your sister.”
The room seemed to lose its air.
I stared at the screen.
Harrison quietly pushed a glass of water toward me, but I did not touch it.
My mother continued.
“Garrett did not meet you by chance after David died.
He had been to Sullivan Vineyards before.
He signed in twice as Sienna’s guest, once in February and once in March.
Both visits occurred before the day he claimed you were introduced.”
The video paused.
Harrison opened the envelope my mother had held on-screen.
Inside were copies of visitor logs and still images taken from the vineyard’s security cameras.
The first showed Garrett entering the tasting room through a side corridor.
The date in the corner was nearly six weeks before I believed I had met him.
The second showed him in the barrel room with Sienna.
They were standing close enough that no explanation could make the distance innocent.
His hand was against her waist.
Her face was turned toward his.
In the third image, they were kissing.
I closed my eyes.
For a moment I was back at the courthouse, Garrett sliding a ring onto my finger while Sienna stood several feet away and wiped tears from her cheeks.
I had thought she was crying because she missed David.
“How long?” I asked.
Harrison’s voice was gentle.
“Your mother believed their relationship began before Garrett approached you.”
I forced myself to look at the next page.
There were dates, times, and copies of messages.
My mother had not obtained them by breaking into anyone’s account.
Sienna had once connected her phone to a shared tablet at the estate, and the messages had appeared on its screen while Margaret was using it.
She photographed what she saw before Sienna disconnected the device.
One message from Garrett read: She trusts me now.
Another said: Your mother will leave the vineyard to Eliza.
Once I’m her husband, she won’t be able to keep us out forever.
Sienna had answered: You said I would get my half.
Garrett replied: You will.
Let me handle her.
My hands began to shake.
I pressed them flat against the desk.
On-screen, my mother drew a slow breath.
“I confronted Sienna privately,” she said.
“She denied the relationship at first.
Then she blamed her illness, her debts, and me.
