“Carol, Dennis was dying.
People get suspicious when they’re sick.”
I pulled it away from her.
“Don’t touch this.”
For the first time since she had entered my home the previous day, Vanessa actually obeyed me.
I continued reading.
The brass key is for the locked drawer in my workbench.
There are copies of the title transfer, insurance records, valuation reports, and the documents you may need if anyone disputes ownership.
Call Martin Hale if you need help.
His card is in the drawer.
He knows what I did and witnessed the transfer paperwork.
Michael raised his eyebrows.
“A witness?”
I nodded.
Brian rubbed both hands over his face.
“Dad made this into something it wasn’t.”
“No,” I said.
“You did.”
His hands dropped.
“I was trying to help Vanessa.”
“With my property.”
“I thought eventually the car would be mine anyway.”
The sentence hung there.
Even Vanessa seemed to realize what he had admitted.
I folded Dennis’s letter carefully.
“You thought I would die and then it would be yours?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then tell me what you meant.”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Michael stepped away from the desk, giving us space without pretending he couldn’t hear.
Vanessa didn’t bother with such restraint.
“This is ridiculous,” she said.
“We had a legitimate reason for needing the money.
The Paris meetings could change our future.”
I looked at her.
“So you decided to change mine.”
“It was a car.”
“It was mine.”
“You weren’t using it.”
“That doesn’t make it yours.”
Her jaw tightened.
“We can repay the dealership after Paris.”
Michael answered before I could.
“That arrangement would need to be discussed with our legal department.
But the dealership will not knowingly hold property obtained through an unauthorized sale.”
Brian looked at him.
“Are you calling the police?”
Michael chose his words carefully.
“I’m saying the dealership will document exactly what happened and protect its interests.
What happens beyond that depends on the facts and the decisions of the parties involved.”
Brian turned toward me.
“Mom.”
It was the first time since this began that he sounded like my son instead of a man negotiating around an inconvenience.
“Please.”
I hated how much that one word still affected me.
