His Lesson Killed My Mother Now He Will Pay Chapter 32
Vivian pushed a pen toward me.
“If you don’t sign this, the board will formally expel Graham from the family trust. He’s already lost the foundation. Don’t force him to lose everything else, too.”
I didn’t touch the pen.
“Does he know you’re here?”
Vivian narrowed her eyes. “You still care about him?”
“I just want to know if this is another case of you using his name to take something that doesn’t belong to you.”
The lawyer pressed a hand over the statement, his face stiff.
Vivian said coldly, “We’re just setting the record straight.”
“The record is already clear in the court filings.”
I turned the statement back to the first page.
“The order canceling the evacuation van has Graham’s electronic signature. The ban on rebooking is on Sloane’s customer service recording. And on the night of the charity dinner, your entire family sat there while Sloane handled my mother’s necklace and your lawyer demanded a permanent license to her story.”
I lifted my eyes to hers.
“I didn’t sign that agreement. So no, you never got the authorization. But failing to get it isn’t the same as never trying to steal it.”
Vivian’s polished composure finally cracked.
“For seven years, who gave you a beautiful home, invited you to the best events, gave you access to a life ordinary people only dream of? And now you talk as if you’re some kind of victim.”
“When my mother was dying, all she needed was a van that cost a few hundred dollars.”
I paused.
“And at your dinner table, you valued my silence at a million-dollar trust fund.”
The office went still.
I reached into the bottom of the deep blue gift bag, took out a clear evidence bag, and slid it toward Vivian.
Inside was the silver necklace. Sloane had taken it from my mother’s storm box and worn it while lecturing about crisis addiction, until the police seized it as evidence.
“After the case closed, it was returned to me. Last night, it appeared on my doorstep with my documents.”
Vivian stared at the necklace.
“I cannot accept something that was used to humiliate my mother being handed back to me as if it were an apology.”
“That wasn’t me,” she blurted out.
Footsteps sounded outside the door.
The next second, Graham walked in.