We did not go to Lorraine's office immediately.
Julia insisted that we first verify the ownership records and obtain legal guidance before approaching the property.
The address Owen had given us belonged to a small consulting company.
Its public records showed Daniel Mercer as a director.
But the company itself had almost no visible business activity.
My father stared at the records.
“I've never heard of this company.”
“That's because it was created recently,” Julia said.
“When?”
“About eight months ago.”
I looked at the date.
Eight months.
That was shortly after Owen had proposed.
The timeline was becoming impossible to dismiss as coincidence.
Julia continued reading.
“The registered address changed twice.”
“Why?”
“Possibly to make tracing ownership more difficult.”
My father looked at me.
“Could Lorraine be behind it?”
“Possibly,” Julia said.
“But we need evidence.”
We returned to the house.
Nathan arrived shortly afterward.
He looked exhausted.
I thanked him for what he had done.
He shook his head.
“I should have told you sooner.”
“Yes.”
He looked down.
“I was scared.”
“I understand.”
Then he handed Julia the sealed envelope from the storage unit.
“My name isn't on this.”
“No,” Julia said.
“But your grandmother's is.”
I watched her open the outer packaging carefully.
Inside was a letter.
The handwriting was old.
My grandmother's handwriting.
I recognized it immediately.
My hands began to shake.
“What does it say?”
Julia read the first lines.
Then she stopped.
“Mara.”
“What?”
“You should read this.”
She handed it to me.
The letter was addressed to my father.
It had been written nearly ten years earlier.
My grandmother explained that she had discovered irregularities in one of the estate's financial accounts.
She had suspected someone close to the family was providing private information to outsiders.
She had not known who.
Then came a name.
Daniel Mercer.
I looked up.
My father went pale.
“Daniel worked for the company then?”
“Yes.”
My grandmother had written that Daniel had access to financial projections because of his work.
She suspected he had been sharing information about family assets with a third party.
The letter ended with a warning.
If anything happens to me, do not assume the people who ask to help are doing so for your benefit.
I lowered the paper.
“My grandmother knew.”
“She suspected,” my father said.
“But she never told you.”
“She may have been afraid.”
I read the letter again.
There was another name in the margin.
A law firm.
Julia recognized it.
“That firm merged three years ago.”
“With whom?”
She searched the records.
Then she looked up.
“Your grandmother's estate attorney joined the new firm.”
I felt a chill.
“Does that matter?”
“Maybe.”
My father stood.
“I want to speak with him.”
Julia agreed.
We arranged a call.
The attorney remembered my grandmother immediately.
When my father mentioned Daniel, the attorney became quiet.
“I wondered when this would come back.”
My heart tightened.
“What do you mean?”
He explained that my grandmother had indeed raised concerns about information being leaked.
She had asked him to create a private file containing certain estate records.
“What happened to that file?”
“It disappeared.”
“When?”
“Shortly after her death.”
My father looked at me.
“Who had access?”
The attorney listed three people.
One was Daniel.
Another was an assistant who had since retired.
The third name stopped me.
I knew it.
Lorraine.
I stared at the screen.
“Why would Lorraine have access to my grandmother's attorney?”
The attorney answered.
“She was involved in a charitable foundation your grandmother supported.”
I remembered it.
Lorraine had volunteered there.
She had met my grandmother once.
Perhaps more than once.
My father frowned.
“I didn't know that.”
“She wasn't listed as family,” the attorney said.
“But she had access to some foundation correspondence.”
Julia leaned forward.
“Could she have obtained information about Mara's inheritance?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Not exact figures. But enough to understand the structure.”
I sat back.
The first meeting between Lorraine and me suddenly looked different.
She had already known what I had.
The proposal.
The wedding.
The condo.
The questions.
Everything followed a pattern.
But there was still something missing.
Why had she chosen Owen?
The attorney answered that too.
“Your grandmother once asked me about Lorraine's son.”
“Owen?”
“Yes.”
My father looked stunned.
“What did she say?”
“She thought he was ambitious.”
I swallowed.
“She knew him?”
“No. She knew of him.”
That distinction mattered.
My grandmother had been watching the people around her.
She had seen something before I ever met Owen.
We ended the call.
Nobody spoke for several minutes.
Then Nathan said, “There is something I didn't tell you.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Owen wasn't the one who introduced Lorraine to Daniel.”
“Who did?”
“I don't know.”
“But I heard them talking once.”
“When?”
“Before the wedding.”
“What did you hear?”
Nathan hesitated.
“Lorraine said someone had guaranteed that Mara's trust was still intact.”
My heart stopped.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she mention a name?”
He shook his head.
“She called him ‘the adviser.’”
Julia looked at my father.
“Could that be the financial adviser who knew about the company transfer?”
My father frowned.
“My adviser has worked with me for fifteen years.”
“Did he know about Mara's interest?”
“Yes.”
“Before the transfer?”
“Yes.”
My father looked disturbed.
“But he has no reason to help Lorraine.”
“Neither did Daniel,” Julia said.
That evening, my father called his adviser.
The conversation lasted five minutes.
When he hung up, his face had changed.
“What happened?”
“He knew about the transfer.”
“I thought he would.”
“No.”
He looked at Julia.
“He knew the exact percentage.”
Silence.
“And,” my father continued, “he admitted Lorraine contacted him.”
My stomach dropped.
“What did she ask?”
“She wanted to know whether the transfer had been completed.”
“Why?”
“She said she was concerned about my daughter's finances.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Concerned.”
My father shook his head.
“He refused to give her the information.”
“Then how did she know?”
He hesitated.
“She didn't need him to tell her.”
Julia understood first.
“Someone else may have accessed his records.”
My father nodded.
“We're investigating.”
I sat down.
The scheme had spread through professional relationships.
It was no longer simply Owen's family.
It involved people who had been near my family's financial information for years.
That night, I received another message.
You are looking in the wrong place.
I showed Julia.
Then another message arrived.
Ask your father about the year your grandmother died.
My father read it.
His face became unreadable.
I looked at him.
“What happened that year?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Finally, he said, “There was an account your grandmother closed.”
“What account?”
“A private investment account.”
“Why?”
“She said someone had tried to move money.”
“Who?”
“I never knew.”
The room went silent.
My father sat down.
“There is something I never told you.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Your grandmother left you more than the trust.”
I felt my pulse quicken.
“What do you mean?”
“There was another account.”
“Where?”
“Offshore.”
Julia's eyes widened.
“Do you know the institution?”
“Yes.”
My father gave the name.
I recognized it from the spreadsheet Owen had created.
The account was listed there.
I looked at the page.
Owen knew about it.
My father had never told him.
Which meant someone else had.
And suddenly the entire scheme made sense.
Owen hadn't discovered my grandmother's hidden assets through me.
Someone had given him the information.
Someone with access to the old estate records.
Someone who had been watching my family for years.
My phone vibrated again.
This time, the message contained only a name.
Daniel Mercer.
Then a second message appeared.
He was not the one who started this.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: The Person Behind Daniel Was Someone My Grandmother Had Warned Us About, and the Final Confrontation Began With One Last Hidden Document
I Thought Hiding Beneath Our Wedding Bed Would Give Me a Laugh, Until My Husband’s Mother Walked In
Part 10 of 12
