PART 3 — THE DEAL BEHIND THE LAND
Richard was still standing in the doorway.
His phone hung loosely in his hand.
Caroline looked from him to the map on my bed.
“What do you mean they’re involved?”
Richard didn’t answer her.
He stared at Larry.
“What company gave you that map?”
Larry remained calm.
“That information came through a development consultant representing another interested party.”
“Which party?”
“I’m not authorized to disclose that yet.”
Richard stepped into the room.
“Then how do you know they’re connected to my deal?”
Larry pointed toward the document lying across my blanket.
“The development group listed here is a subsidiary of Westbridge Holdings.”
Richard’s expression changed.
Melissa noticed it immediately.
“Richard,” she said slowly, “is that the company that bought your firm?”
He didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
Caroline moved closer to him.
“You said your deal was with Westbridge.”
“It was.”
“You told everyone they paid twelve million dollars.”
“They did.”
Larry watched him carefully.
“For what exactly?”
Richard looked at him sharply.
“That’s confidential.”
“So is my client’s property information.”
Richard clenched his jaw.
I looked at my son.
Four days ago, he had sounded almost bored when I told him I needed help paying for surgery.
Now he looked like a man watching the floor disappear beneath his feet.
“What aren’t you telling us?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Richard.”
“I said nothing.”
Melissa folded her arms.
“You came back into this room after hearing the name of a company. Something is wrong.”
Richard turned toward her.
“You don’t understand how corporate transactions work.”
“I understand what panic looks like.”
“I’m not panicking.”
Larry quietly said, “You should probably stop talking.”
Richard’s head snapped toward him.
“Excuse me?”
“If Westbridge’s acquisition of your company is connected in any way to this property, anything you say right now could matter later.”
That sentence made the room colder.
Caroline stared at Richard.
“Connected how?”
Richard shook his head.
“It isn’t.”
Larry studied him.
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
Richard didn’t respond.
My monitor continued beeping beside me.
Slow.
Steady.
Almost mocking the tension filling the room.
I reached toward the map.
“Larry, explain what you know.”
Richard immediately interrupted.
“Dad, don’t.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because this could involve confidential business information.”
“Whose business?”
“Mine.”
I looked at the map again.
“It’s lying on my bed.”
Melissa almost smiled.
Richard didn’t.
Larry pulled his chair closer.
“About six months ago, several development companies began quietly purchasing parcels around the new interchange.”
Richard stared at him.
Larry continued.
“The land surrounding Boris’s acreage was considered difficult to develop because of access limitations.”
He pointed toward the northern boundary.
“But this eight-acre strip solves that problem.”
Melissa leaned closer.
“How?”
“It connects the proposed commercial development directly to the highway access road.”
“So without those eight acres…”
“They would need a longer route.”
“How much longer?”
“Several miles.”
“And more expensive?”
“Significantly.”
Richard suddenly said, “That’s speculation.”
Larry looked at him.
“Is it?”
Richard’s mouth tightened.
Larry continued.
“Three months ago, a small consulting firm began contacting landowners in the area.”
I frowned.
“What consulting firm?”
Larry looked down at his notes.
“RidgePoint Advisory.”
Richard looked away.
I saw it.
So did Melissa.
She immediately asked, “You know them?”
“No.”
“You just reacted.”
“I didn’t react.”
“Yes, you did.”
Richard turned toward her.
“Can you stop treating everything like some courtroom drama?”
Larry spoke before Melissa could answer.
“RidgePoint Advisory was founded eighteen months ago.”
He paused.
“One of its registered directors is Evan Mercer.”
Richard’s face went completely still.
Caroline frowned.
“Who is Evan Mercer?”
I looked at Richard.
He didn’t answer.
Larry did.
“Richard’s business partner.”
Caroline turned toward her son.
“Your partner?”
Richard walked farther into the room.
“This is getting ridiculous.”
Larry opened his folder.
“Is Evan Mercer your partner?”
“Yes.”
“Was he involved in the Westbridge transaction?”
“Yes.”
“Did he negotiate directly with Westbridge?”
Richard hesitated.
“Yes.”
Larry nodded.
“And did RidgePoint Advisory communicate with you regarding the Rosenberg project?”
Richard’s face hardened.
“I’m done answering questions.”
Melissa whispered, “Oh my God.”
Caroline looked at her.
“What?”
Melissa stared at Richard.
“You knew.”
Richard immediately shook his head.
“Knew what?”
“That Dad’s land might become valuable.”
“No.”
“You knew there was development happening around it.”
“Everybody knew there was development happening.”
“Dad didn’t.”
“That’s not my responsibility.”
I felt something strange then.
Not anger.
Not yet.
Something heavier.
A memory.
Six months earlier, Richard had called me unexpectedly.
He had asked whether I still owned the Rosenberg property.
At the time, I thought he was checking on my finances.
He had said, “You should probably sell that thing if anyone ever offers you something decent.”
I hadn’t thought much of it.
Now I remembered another detail.
He had asked whether the deed was still solely in my name.
My stomach tightened.
“Richard.”
He looked at me.
“You called me in March.”
His expression shifted.
Melissa turned toward me.
“What did he say?”
I kept my eyes on my son.
“You asked whether I still owned the property.”
Richard shrugged.
“So?”
“You asked whether I had ever transferred any portion of it.”
“I probably did.”
“And you told me if somebody offered a few hundred thousand dollars, I should take it.”
“That sounds like good advice.”
“Did you know Westbridge wanted this area?”
“No.”
“Did Evan?”
“I don’t know.”
Larry watched Richard.
That answer sounded carefully chosen.
Too carefully.
Melissa noticed too.
“Why did you say Evan instead of ‘my partner’ earlier?” she asked.
Richard frowned.
“What?”
“When Larry said the name Evan Mercer, you reacted before he explained who he was.”
“I know my partner’s name, Melissa.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Richard rubbed his temple.
“I’m not doing this.”
He headed toward the door again.
Larry spoke quietly.
“Did Westbridge know about Boris’s property when they valued your company?”
Richard stopped.
Nobody moved.
Larry repeated the question.
“Did they?”
Richard turned around slowly.
“You’re an attorney.”
“Yes.”
“Then you know I’m not required to answer that.”
Larry nodded.
“You’re correct.”
Richard smiled faintly.
“Good.”
Larry continued.
“But refusing to answer tells me what I need to investigate.”
The smile disappeared.
Caroline looked confused.
“Investigate what?”
Larry stood and folded the map.
“That depends on whether Richard’s company provided Westbridge with information regarding future development access.”
Richard moved toward him.
“Be very careful.”
“I am.”
“You’re implying fraud.”
“I haven’t implied anything.”
“You just said—”
“I said I would investigate.”
Richard pointed at him.
“You have no right to investigate my business.”
Larry looked toward me.
“If the value of my client’s property was intentionally concealed during a transaction involving parties who knew that property was essential to a larger project, I have every right to ask questions.”
Melissa’s face turned pale.
“Concealed?”
Richard laughed.
“Now we’re inventing conspiracy theories.”
I finally spoke.
“Then answer one simple question.”
Richard looked at me.
“When you told me the land was worthless five years ago, did you believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.”
I paused.
“When you called me six months ago and told me to sell if anyone offered a few hundred thousand dollars, did you still believe it was worthless?”
Richard didn’t answer.
Caroline’s eyes moved toward him.
I waited.
“Richard.”
He looked at the floor.
That was when I knew.
Maybe he hadn’t known the exact value.
Maybe he hadn’t known the full plan.
But he had known something.
“Answer me.”
“I heard rumors.”
The words were so quiet that I almost missed them.
Melissa leaned forward.
“What?”
Richard exhaled.
“I heard rumors about commercial development.”
“How much development?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Did you know Westbridge was involved?”
“Not initially.”
“Initially?”
Caroline’s voice was suddenly sharper.
She stepped toward him.
“What does initially mean?”
Richard closed his eyes for a second.
“When negotiations started.”
The room went silent again.
I stared at him.
“How long ago?”
He looked at me.
“Four months.”
I felt my chest tighten.
Not because of the procedure.
Because four months ago, my son already knew that the company buying his business had an interest in development surrounding my property.
And he had never told me.
Melissa whispered, “You knew for four months?”
“I knew they were looking at land around Rosenberg.”
“Did you know Dad’s land was involved?”
“Not specifically.”
Larry immediately said, “That isn’t what I asked.”
Richard glared at him.
“You’re not questioning me.”
“Then leave.”
Richard blinked.
Larry’s voice remained calm.
“This is Boris’s hospital room. You came here. If you don’t want questions, leave.”
For several seconds, Richard looked as if he might actually explode.
Instead, Caroline spoke.
“I want to know.”
Everyone looked at her.
She stared at her son.
“Did you know Boris’s land mattered to your deal?”
Richard shook his head.
“Mom—”
“Answer me.”
“I’m telling you, it wasn’t like that.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Caroline stepped closer.
“You pushed me to separate our finances.”
“That was five years ago.”
“You insisted the land remain with your father.”
“Because it was a liability.”
“And now your business partner is involved with the same development that needs that land?”
Richard looked at her.
“Evan has investments everywhere.”
“That isn’t an answer either.”
Melissa slowly sat down.
She looked sick.
I understood why.
This was no longer about inheritance.
It was beginning to look like Richard had kept information from me while profiting from a business transaction tied to the land he had encouraged me to discard.
Larry took out his phone.
“I’m going to make one call.”
Richard immediately said, “To who?”
Larry ignored him.
He stepped toward the window and dialed.
A few seconds later, someone answered.
“Martin, it’s Larry.”
He listened.
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“I need confirmation of one thing.”
Richard watched him intensely.
Larry looked at the map.
“Did RidgePoint ever submit an offer for the Foster property?”
My body went cold.
Richard stopped breathing.
At least, it looked like he did.
Larry listened for several seconds.
Then his eyes slowly moved toward Richard.
“When?”
More silence.
“How much?”
Melissa stood.
Richard whispered, “Larry.”
Larry raised one finger.
“Send me everything you have.”
He ended the call.
Nobody spoke.
I finally asked, “What did he say?”
Larry looked at Richard first.
Then at me.
“RidgePoint submitted an informal acquisition proposal six weeks ago.”
I stared at him.
“To who?”
“Not to you.”
“Then to who?”
“To Cornerstone.”
Melissa frowned.
“Why would they offer Cornerstone money for Dad’s property?”
Larry shook his head.
“They weren’t offering Cornerstone money.”
He paused.
“They were telling Cornerstone what price they believed Boris would accept.”
My mouth went dry.
“What price?”
Larry looked almost angry now.
“Four hundred thousand dollars.”
Melissa gasped.
Caroline covered her mouth.
I slowly turned toward Richard.
He looked away.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
My property had eventually attracted an eighteen-point-four-million-dollar offer.
Yet six weeks earlier, a consulting firm connected to my son’s business partner had apparently suggested that I could be bought out for four hundred thousand.
The same general number Richard had casually mentioned months before.
My voice became very quiet.
“You told them.”
Richard looked at me.
“What?”
“You told them I would take four hundred thousand.”
“No.”
“You told someone.”
“No.”
“Then how did they choose that number?”
“I don’t know.”
I felt anger rise for the first time.
“Richard.”
“I said I don’t know.”
Melissa stepped between us.
“Dad, don’t upset yourself.”
I looked at her.
“My son may have tried to help somebody buy eighteen million dollars of land from me for four hundred thousand.”
Richard’s voice rose.
“That is not what happened!”
“Then explain what happened!”
He finally snapped.
“I WAS TRYING TO HELP YOU!”
The monitor beside me began beeping faster.
Nobody moved.
Richard’s chest rose and fell.
I stared at him.
“Help me?”
“Yes.”
“By telling people I would sell for four hundred thousand?”
“You were drowning in taxes!”
“So you did tell them.”
He realized too late what he had admitted.
Caroline whispered, “Richard.”
He closed his eyes.
Melissa stared at him in disbelief.
I felt something inside me break.
Not loudly.
Quietly.
The way trust usually breaks.
Richard sat down.
“Dad, listen.”
I didn’t say anything.
He continued.
“Evan asked me what you might accept.”
“You gave him a number.”
“I guessed.”
“You guessed?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell me?”
“No.”
“Did you tell me someone was asking?”
“No.”
“Did you tell me a development firm was interested?”
“No.”
“Did you tell me Westbridge was planning projects around the land?”
“No.”
Every answer made his voice smaller.
I looked at Larry.
“How long before my deal did Richard give Evan that number?”
Larry checked his phone.
“According to the preliminary correspondence Martin just sent, approximately seven weeks ago.”
I looked at Richard.
“When did Westbridge finalize the purchase of your firm?”
He didn’t answer.
Melissa did the calculation first.
“Last week.”
Larry nodded.
I stared at my son.
“So while Westbridge was buying your company, your partner was also trying to figure out how cheaply someone could acquire my land.”
Richard stood again.
“You’re combining separate things.”
“Are they separate?”
“Yes.”
“Prove it.”
Richard said nothing.
Larry stepped forward.
“There’s another issue.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
He glanced at Richard.
“Martin said the four-hundred-thousand-dollar figure wasn’t the only information RidgePoint provided.”
Richard’s face changed again.
Larry continued.
“They provided personal financial information about you.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“What kind of information?”
“Mortgage balance.”
Melissa’s eyes widened.
“Property tax history.”
Caroline stared at Richard.
“Employment income.”
Richard stopped moving.
Larry continued.
“And medical debt estimates.”
The room went silent.
I looked at Richard.
“You told them I was sick.”
“No.”
“You told them I needed money.”
“No.”
“Then how did they know?”
“I don’t know.”
Larry held up his phone.
“The document was prepared three weeks ago.”
Three weeks.
Before I called Richard about the $3,200.
Before Melissa sold her car.
Before the fifteen-million-dollar offer arrived.
Somebody had already been collecting information about how financially vulnerable I was.
Caroline whispered, “Richard, where would they get medical debt information?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Melissa looked at him.
“You knew Dad was having tests.”
“So did Mom.”
Caroline recoiled.
“Don’t bring me into this.”
“You knew he was paying medical bills.”
“I knew he had appointments.”
“And you knew he was struggling.”
Caroline stared at him.
“I never gave anyone financial information.”
Richard turned away.
Larry looked at me.
“Boris, I need your permission to investigate where this information came from.”
“You have it.”
Richard immediately said, “Dad, think carefully.”
I looked at him.
“I have been thinking carefully.”
“If you start accusing people connected to Westbridge, this could become very serious.”
“For who?”
He didn’t answer.
That question frightened him more than anything else I had said.
“For who, Richard?”
He finally whispered, “For everybody.”
Melissa shook her head.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“No what?”
“This keeps happening.”
“What?”
“You keep saying family when you mean yourself.”
Richard stared at her.
Melissa continued.
“When Dad needed $3,200, you said your money was connected to your future.”
Her voice remained calm.
“Now Dad’s land is connected to your future, and suddenly everything affects the whole family.”
Richard looked away.
She stepped closer.
“You don’t want us protected.”
“You want your deal protected.”
Nobody contradicted her.
Because nobody could.
Larry gathered the documents.
“I’m contacting Westbridge’s legal department.”
Richard spun around.
“No.”
Larry looked at him.
“Yes.”
“You’ll destroy my transaction.”
“If your transaction is legitimate, an inquiry won’t destroy anything.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
Richard stood motionless.
I watched him.
There was something else.
Something much bigger.
I could see it.
“Richard.”
He looked at me.
“What does Westbridge think you own?”
He froze.
That question had come from nowhere.
Even I wasn’t sure why I asked it.
Maybe instinct.
Maybe thirty years of knowing my son.
Maybe because fear changes a person’s face in a very specific way.
Richard didn’t answer.
Larry slowly looked at him.
“Boris,” Larry said quietly, “why did you ask that?”
“Because he keeps acting like my land is part of his deal.”
Melissa turned toward Richard.
Caroline did too.
I repeated the question.
“What does Westbridge think you own?”
Richard backed toward the window.
“Nothing.”
Larry’s expression sharpened.
“Did you represent to Westbridge that you had an ownership interest in the Rosenberg acreage?”
“No.”
“Did Evan?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did your company?”
“No.”
“Did anyone associated with your transaction imply that access to Boris’s land was secured?”
Richard said nothing.
Larry took one step toward him.
“Richard.”
Richard looked at me.
Then he said something I will never forget.
“I thought you were eventually going to give me the land.”
Melissa stared at him.
“What?”
He continued quickly.
“You always talked about leaving things to us.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“So you made business commitments based on property you didn’t own?”
“No.”
“That’s what you just said.”
“I said I believed the land would eventually come to the family.”
“After I died.”
“Dad—”
“Say it.”
He looked sick.
I continued.
“You built part of a twelve-million-dollar transaction around land you expected to inherit after I died.”
“No.”
“Then explain it.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“We told Westbridge there was a strong likelihood that the access issue could be resolved.”
Larry stared at him.
“How?”
Richard’s voice dropped.
“Through family ownership.”
My chest felt hollow.
Larry asked the next question carefully.
“Did Westbridge place financial value on that representation?”
Richard didn’t answer.
“Richard.”
“Yes.”
Caroline sat down.
Melissa looked like she had been struck.
I stared at my son.
“How much?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t know exactly.”
“How much of your twelve-million-dollar deal depended on my land?”
“Dad—”
“How much?”
His voice finally broke.
“About four million.”
Nobody moved.
Four million dollars.
That was the number.
Four million dollars of my son’s celebrated deal had apparently been tied, directly or indirectly, to access involving land that didn’t belong to him.
Land he had refused to help me protect.
Land he had expected to inherit.
Land I had transferred to Melissa.
Larry closed his eyes for one second.
When he opened them, his expression had changed completely.
“This is much more serious than I thought.”
Richard looked at him.
“That’s why you cannot contact Westbridge.”
“That’s exactly why I have to.”
“They’ll freeze everything.”
“They should.”
“My payout hasn’t fully cleared.”
“That isn’t Boris’s problem.”
“It becomes his problem if they sue.”
I stared at Richard.
“Sue who?”
He didn’t answer.
Larry did.
“Potentially anyone involved in representations regarding the land.”
I looked at Richard.
“Did you use my name?”
Silence.
“Did you?”
Richard whispered, “Yes.”
Caroline began crying.
Melissa put one hand against the wall.
I felt strangely calm again.
“What did you tell them?”
Richard looked at me.
“That you had agreed in principle to cooperate.”
I had never agreed to anything.
I had never spoken to Westbridge.
I had never even heard the company’s name before that afternoon.
“You lied.”
Richard shook his head.
“I believed you would agree.”
“That is called lying.”
“I was going to talk to you.”
“When?”
“After closing.”
I laughed.
I couldn’t help it.
The sound came out bitter.
“After you got paid.”
He said nothing.
Larry immediately picked up his phone.
“I’m calling Westbridge.”
Richard moved toward him.
“Don’t.”
Melissa stepped between them.
“Back up.”
“Melissa, stay out of this.”
“No.”
“This could ruin me.”
She stared at him.
“You should have thought about that before using Dad’s land like it belonged to you.”
Richard looked at me.
“Dad.”
For the first time that day, he didn’t sound angry.
He sounded desperate.
“If Westbridge finds out the property was transferred, they can accuse me of misrepresentation.”
I looked at him.
“The property was never yours.”
“I know.”
“Then you misrepresented it before I transferred anything.”
He closed his eyes.
That was the truth he couldn’t escape.
Larry made the call.
He introduced himself.
Asked for general counsel.
Waited.
Richard sat down.
He looked exhausted.
Ten minutes earlier, he had been worried about losing an inheritance.
Now he was worried about losing much more.
Larry finally spoke.
“This concerns the Rosenberg access representations associated with the recent acquisition involving Mercer-Lang Development.”
Richard’s company.
I had never heard Larry say the name before.
He listened.
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“No, Mr. Foster never authorized any representation regarding access.”
Richard lowered his head.
Larry continued.
“The property has since been legally transferred.”
More silence.
“To his daughter.”
Richard stood again.
Larry listened.
His expression changed.
“What do you mean you already knew?”
Everyone looked at him.
Larry straightened.
“When did you receive it?”
Long silence.
“Send it to me.”
He ended the call.
Melissa immediately asked, “What happened?”
Larry didn’t answer.
He stared at his phone.
“Larry?”
He looked at Richard.
“Westbridge received an anonymous email this morning.”
Richard froze.
“What email?”
“It contained copies of internal RidgePoint messages.”
His face drained.
Larry continued.
“The messages discuss acquiring Boris’s property below market value before the access requirement became public.”
Caroline whispered, “Oh God.”
Richard shook his head.
“That could be fake.”
Larry’s phone buzzed.
He opened the attachment.
He read silently.
Then his eyes widened.
“What?”
I asked.
He looked at Richard.
“I don’t think they’re fake.”
“Why?”
Larry turned the phone slightly.
“Because one of the messages came from Richard’s corporate email address.”
Nobody spoke.
Richard stared at the screen.
His lips parted.
“That isn’t possible.”
Larry read the message.
Not aloud.
Just silently.
Then he looked at my son.
“Richard, you need your own attorney.”
“I already told you—”
“No.”
Larry’s voice was different now.
“Not a business attorney.”
Richard went still.
“A criminal-defense attorney.”
Caroline gasped.
Melissa stared at Larry.
I felt the air leave the room.
Richard stepped backward.
“What exactly does the email say?”
Larry hesitated.
Then he looked at me.
“It appears to discuss Boris’s medical expenses.”
My hands went cold.
“And?”
“It says financial pressure may make him willing to sell quickly.”
I stared at Richard.
He looked terrified.
“Dad, I didn’t write that.”
Larry glanced at the email again.
“It came from your account.”
“I didn’t write it.”
“Then someone used your account.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Richard’s eyes moved toward the floor.
And suddenly I knew there was one more person involved.
“Evan,” Melissa whispered.
Richard didn’t answer.
Larry asked, “Did Evan have access to your email?”
Richard still said nothing.
Caroline stepped toward him.
“Richard.”
He finally looked up.
“Yes.”
Melissa whispered, “Why?”
Richard swallowed.
“Because we shared an administrative login during negotiations.”
Larry immediately asked, “Could Evan send messages from your account?”
“Yes.”
“Could he delete them?”
“Yes.”
“Could he impersonate you?”
Richard looked at him.
“Yes.”
My anger shifted.
Maybe Richard had done terrible things.
He had lied about my cooperation.
He had failed to tell me what he knew.
He had gambled on property he didn’t own.
But perhaps someone had also been using him.
Larry’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
“Westbridge.”
He answered.
“Yes?”
We all watched him.
His face became serious almost immediately.
“When?”
He listened.
“Has anyone contacted law enforcement?”
Richard stopped breathing.
Larry walked toward the window.
“Understood.”
Another long pause.
“No, Mr. Foster is in the hospital.”
I looked at Melissa.
She looked at me.
Something had happened.
Larry finally said, “I’ll tell him.”
He ended the call.
Nobody spoke.
“What?” Richard asked.
Larry stared at him.
“Evan Mercer is missing.”
Caroline whispered, “Missing?”
“He didn’t appear at a Westbridge meeting this morning.”
Richard frowned.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“His phone is off.”
“He travels.”
“His wife reported that he never came home last night.”
Richard’s face changed.
Larry continued.
“And Westbridge just discovered something else.”
I asked, “What?”
Larry looked down at his phone.
“Several hours before disappearing, Evan transferred three-point-eight million dollars from a company account.”
Richard stumbled backward.
“No.”
“Westbridge believes the money was part of the acquisition proceeds.”
“No.”
Richard grabbed his phone.
He dialed.
No answer.
He dialed again.
Nothing.
“Evan, pick up.”
Nothing.
Richard lowered the phone.
Melissa whispered, “Did he steal from you?”
Richard didn’t answer.
Larry said, “That depends on who controlled the account.”
Richard stared at him.
“We both did.”
There it was.
The bigger trap.
The company.
The land.
The forged or manipulated emails.
The missing partner.
The missing money.
And my son’s name attached to all of it.
Caroline started crying harder.
“Richard, what did you get yourself into?”
He looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
For the first time that day, I believed him.
Then Larry’s phone buzzed again.
A new email.
He opened it.
Read.
And became completely still.
“Larry?”
He didn’t answer.
“Larry.”
He slowly turned the phone toward me.
Attached to the email was a scanned document.
A property authorization form.
My name appeared at the bottom.
Boris Foster.
And beneath it was a signature.
My signature.
Except I had never signed it.
Melissa looked at me.
“Dad?”
I stared at the screen.
“That isn’t mine.”
Larry’s voice was quiet.
“I know.”
Richard stepped closer.
“What document is that?”
Larry zoomed in.
“It authorizes preliminary access negotiations involving the Rosenberg property.”
Richard stared at it.
“That’s the document Westbridge showed us.”
I looked at him.
“You saw this?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell them it was fake?”
Richard’s face collapsed.
“I thought you had signed it.”
“How could you think that?”
“Evan told me he had spoken with you.”
My stomach turned.
“I have never spoken to Evan Mercer in my life.”
Nobody moved.
Then Melissa pointed at the date.
“Look.”
Larry looked closer.
The document had been dated three months earlier.
But something else appeared beneath my forged signature.
Witnessed by:
Caroline Foster.
Every eye in the room turned toward my wife.
Caroline stared at the screen.
Her face went completely white.
I looked at her.
“Caroline.”
She backed toward the wall.
“Boris…”
My throat tightened.
“Why is your name on that paper?”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t know.”
“Know what?”
“Richard told me it was just a verification form.”
Richard stared at her.
“Mom?”
She started crying.
“You said the company needed proof that Boris still owned the land.”
Richard’s face changed.
“I never gave you a form.”
Caroline stopped.
“What?”
“I never asked you to sign anything.”
Silence.
Caroline looked at me.
Then at Richard.
Then at Larry.
Her voice became barely audible.
“Evan did.”
The room froze.
Larry asked, “Evan Mercer met with you?”
She nodded.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Where?”
“At the house.”
Richard stared at her.
“You met Evan without telling me?”
“He said you sent him!”
“I didn’t.”
Caroline covered her mouth.
Larry stepped closer.
“What exactly did he ask you to do?”
“He brought papers.”
“What papers?”
“I don’t know.”
“He told me they were routine documents connected to Richard’s deal.”
“Did you sign them?”
Caroline began shaking.
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did you sign Boris’s name?”
Her eyes filled with horror.
“No.”
I stared at her.
“Caroline.”
“I swear.”
“Did you sign my name?”
“No!”
Larry looked at the forged authorization.
“Then someone else forged Boris’s signature.”
Melissa whispered, “Evan.”
Larry nodded slowly.
“Possibly.”
Richard looked like he was going to be sick.
“Why would Evan do that?”
I answered before anyone else could.
“Four million dollars.”
Richard looked at me.
If Evan had convinced Westbridge that the land access was secure, he could inflate the value of Richard’s company.
If he could then acquire my land cheaply, he could control the access himself.
And now three-point-eight million dollars was missing.
Larry suddenly looked toward the door.
“We need security.”
Melissa frowned.
“Why?”
Larry held up his phone.
“Because Westbridge just sent another message.”
“What message?”
Larry read it.
Then looked directly at me.
“They found Evan’s vehicle.”
Richard whispered, “Where?”
Larry’s expression tightened.
“Near Rosenberg.”
My heart started pounding.
“Near my property?”
Larry nodded.
Nobody spoke.
Then he added the part that changed everything.
“The driver’s door was open.”
Melissa grabbed my hand.
“And?”
“There was blood on the front seat.”
Caroline gasped.
Richard staggered backward.
Larry immediately called hospital security.
But before he could finish the call, someone knocked on the door.
Three sharp knocks.
Everyone froze.
Richard stared toward the entrance.
Melissa moved closer to my bed.
Larry lowered his phone.
The door slowly opened.
A man wearing a dark suit stepped inside.
He showed a badge.
“Boris Foster?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Detective Samuel Reed.”
He glanced around the room.
“I need to speak with you about Evan Mercer.”
Richard stepped forward.
“Is he alive?”
The detective looked at him.
“And you are?”
“Richard Foster.”
Something changed in the detective’s expression.
He reached inside his jacket.
“Richard Foster?”
“Yes.”
The detective pulled out another document.
“I was actually hoping you would be here.”
Richard’s face went pale.
“Why?”
Detective Reed looked directly at him.
“Because Evan Mercer’s vehicle contained a second phone.”
Nobody moved.
“And?”
Richard asked.
The detective continued.
“That phone contained twelve calls made last night.”
“To who?”
Detective Reed looked at Richard for several seconds.
Then he said the words that silenced the entire room.
“Eleven were to you.”
Richard stared at him.
“And the twelfth?”
The detective slowly turned toward Caroline.
“To your mother.”……………
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 4…
