Chapter 4 - THE LAND HE WAS REALLY TRYING TO MARRY
My grandmother’s ranch was suddenly worth twelve million dollars.
Maybe more.
That was what the mineral-rights attorney told us.
I sat in Caleb’s office beside my father while a geological report spread across the table.
“Who commissioned this?”
I asked.
Caleb tapped the first page.
“Cross Development.”
Everett.
Eleven months earlier.
A month before he proposed.
My father went very still.
I felt something inside me crack again.
“Are you saying he proposed because of the ranch?”
Caleb answered carefully.
“I’m saying he knew its potential value before you did.”
That was not technically the same thing.
Emotionally, it felt identical.
I remembered Everett proposing on our apartment floor between moving boxes.
No photographer.
No restaurant.
Just tacos and a ring.
He had cried.
I had cried.
Had any of it been real?
Caleb seemed to read my face.
“People can love someone and still exploit them.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
I looked at him.
“You’re very bad at emotional support.”
“I’m a real-estate attorney.”
“Fair.”
My father almost smiled.
Then Caleb showed us the forged collateral documents.
If the loan defaulted, the lender could attempt to seize an interest in the trust holding the ranch.
We filed an emergency fraud notice immediately.
Everett called from a new number.
I answered this time.
“Maddie.”
“Do not call me that.”
Silence.
“Madison.”
“Better.”
“You met Camille.”
Not a question.
“Yes.”
“She’s lying.”
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
Silence.
I closed my eyes.
“Goodbye, Everett.”
“Wait.”
I almost hung up.
Then he said:
“I did not propose because of the ranch.”
My throat tightened.
“You had the mineral report.”
“Yes.”
“You kept it from me.”
“Yes.”
“You forged my signature.”
“No.”
That stopped me.
“Caleb has the document.”
“I know.”
“My signature is on it.”
“I didn’t put it there.”
“Then who did?”
Another silence.
“Mom.”
I sat down.
“Joanne forged my signature?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“She handled the collateral packet.”
“Why?”
“Because Grant threatened her.”
Everything kept expanding.
“What did he have on Joanne?”
Everett’s voice lowered.
“My father.”
I frowned.
His father, Steven Cross, had died five years earlier from a hunting accident.
“What about him?”
“He didn’t die in an accident.”
My father looked at me.
Caleb stopped typing.
Everett continued:
“Grant has evidence Mom caused his death.”
I felt sick.
“What?”
“She says it isn’t true.”
“Of course.”
“Madison, listen to me. I was trying to get the money together before Grant destroyed my family.”
“You used mine.”
“I was going to replace it.”
“That sentence should embarrass you.”
“I panicked.”
“No. You calculated.”
He exhaled.
Then:
“There’s something else about the ranch.”
I laughed without humor.
“Of course there is.”
“The gas rights aren’t the most valuable part.”
“What is?”
Everett hesitated.
Then said:
“Your grandfather buried records there.”
“What records?”
“Proof that Steven Cross and Grant Porter’s father were running money through construction projects twenty years ago.”
I looked at Caleb.
His face had changed.
May you like
Everett whispered:
“And if those records still exist, someone may be willing to kill for them.”
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