I Signed Away Eight Million To Leave Him Chapter 25
But that same night, an interview from Palm Beach was forwarded to my school email.
In the footage, Sloane was dressed in black, her expression mournful.
“Graham did not die in an accident.”
She looked into the camera and spoke slowly.
“Someone used his feelings and drove him, step by step, into a dead end.”
The host asked who she meant.
Sloane didn’t answer. She only gestured for the camera to turn.
A gray-haired man sat beside her.
He was older now, thinner, his eye sockets hollow—but his fingers still held the same shape they had when they used to curl around a bottle.
He lifted his head and gave the camera a cold smile.
“My wife wasn’t beaten to death by me.”
“Mara’s been a liar since she was a little girl.”
Even across the decades, I recognized him in an instant.
It was my father.
On screen, he claimed my mother had been drinking before she died and had simply fallen.
He said Beatrice had forced him out of Palm Beach so she could adopt me into the Vale family, then taught me to turn an accident into a murder.
“They needed a poor little orphan to pity.”
He leaned back in his chair, his voice thick with contempt.
“That way, Beatrice’s charity looked respectable. And afterward, she even pushed that orphan onto her own son—eight million dollars and all.”
Beside him, Sloane lowered her eyes.