The crumpled envelope lay on the floor, a silent testament to the morning's unraveling. My hands trembled as I picked up another document, the bold letters "Allison Vance's Property" searing themselves into my vision. This couldn't be real. My stepmom, Lisa, had always maintained that my father died penniless, that her "investments abroad" were our only salvation. Yet, here before me, was a mountain of evidence suggesting otherwise: land, houses, shops, even farms – all bearing my name.
I called in sick to the library, a rare act of rebellion for someone who lived by a strict schedule. A steaming cup of tea sat forgotten on the dining room table as I delved into the papers, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. Three things immediately jumped out at me, each one chipping away at the foundation of trust I had placed in Lisa.
First, my father's name, far from being absent, appeared repeatedly in the documents. They clearly stated he had transferred properties and estates to various individuals, directly contradicting Lisa's narrative of his financial ruin. Second, while a quarter of his entire estate was indeed transferred to my stepmom, I, his only child, was left with nothing. The blatant omission stung. And third, the name "Davenport Law Firm" was plastered across almost every page. A quick search revealed them to be part of a colossal conglomerate, their reach extending across countless industries. My focus, however, remained solely on the law firm.
My phone buzzed, an unsaved number flashing on the screen. I almost dismissed it, assuming it was a wrong number, but the persistence of the caller made me answer. A timid voice, so unlike her usual harsh tone, filled my ear. "Miss Vance… I'm sorry… for this… the short notice." It was Amanda, my stepmom's secretary.
"What are you talking about, Amanda?" I demanded, my patience wearing thin.
She stammered, "Well, I was the one who sent those letters… I couldn't stay quiet anymore. It was weighing on my mind."
"Just get to the point!" I snapped, my heart pounding.
"Well, those papers you're holding are property your dad left you, but your stepmom stole from you and claimed as her own. They are now supposed to be taken by Lisa, but legally they are still yours."
A cold wave of disbelief washed over me. "What impeccable timing, Miss Amanda. Why didn't you tell me before? Why now? What is the reason for this?"
"It's my conscience," she mumbled, "I mean, leaving you in the dark forever, but in the end I found out that your mum… I mean, stepmom is not innocent, therefore I don't want to be an accessory or accomplice to this crime that she has committed, you know, like ghost hunting and what not…"
I cut the call, throwing the phone onto the couch. Ten years. Ten years I had taken care of her, paid for her endless hospital bills, even funded her daughter's university education. I had lived under the illusion of her generosity, believing she had paid for everything since my father's death, grateful for her supposed selflessness. I had preserved her demands, catering to her every whim, and this was my repayment.
A lifetime of lies. It had to be.
My gaze fell on the documents scattered across the table, then to the floor where the red envelope still lay. Davenport Law Firm. They had played a hand in this deception, and I intended to find out just how deep their involvement went. This wasn't just about money; it was about betrayal, about the shattering of a carefully constructed reality. And I would go to the firm that had helped weave this tangled web. I would go to them and demand answers.