Chapter 9 - THE MISTRESS WHO WAS REALLY HIS MOTHER
Jess.
The woman whose messages destroyed my relationship.
The woman Connor had been meeting for months.
The woman he'd invited to our apartment.
I had assumed she was his mistress.
Now Margaret Ross was telling me Jess was his mother.
I couldn't decide whether to laugh, scream, or throw up.
"That makes no sense."
Margaret nodded sadly.
"I know."
"Connor told me his mother died when he was twelve."
"That was another lie."
Lucia leaned forward.
"Who is Jessica Walsh?"
Margaret took a breath.
"She was an accountant working with Carlo Versani and Harrison Pike, a private investment adviser involved in the old children's trust arrangements."
My stomach tightened.
"Then why did Connor pretend she was his girlfriend?"
Margaret looked down.
"He wanted you to discover the messages."
I stared.
"What?"
"He needed a reason to force you out of the apartment."
I remembered his words.
I'm calling Jess. She's coming over.
It wasn't an affair confession.
It was a performance.
Designed to make me leave.
Designed to push me into the cold.
But why?
Margaret continued.
"The records hidden in your mother's envelope were supposed to become available to you when you married."
My hands went cold.
"Married?"
"Yes."
"Connor kept asking me to set a wedding date."
Lucia nodded slowly.
"And you refused?"
"I told him I wanted to finish paying off my student loans first."
Margaret's expression changed.
"Then he couldn't access what he wanted."
I stared.
"Access what?"
"An inheritance."
The word sounded absurd.
I worked long hours translating legal documents.
I drove an aging sedan.
I'd spent months worrying about grocery bills.
"What inheritance?"
Margaret opened a folder.
Inside was a trust agreement bearing my grandfather's name.
I recognized it immediately.
Samuel Bennett.
My father's father.
He died when I was six.
I'd thought he owned a small hardware store.
Margaret explained that Samuel also held minority interests in several transportation companies.
Over decades, those shares had increased in value.
But certain administrators had concealed the investments.
My inheritance had been placed in a trust requiring independent review when I turned twenty-seven, or earlier if specific family conditions were met.
I stared at the paperwork.
"How much?"
Margaret hesitated.
"Potentially several million dollars."
I leaned back.
The room seemed to spin.
Someone had manipulated my relationship.
Threatened my life.
Possibly damaged my car.
All because of money I didn't know existed.
Then Lucia noticed something in the trust documents.
"Margaret."
She looked up.
"This beneficiary schedule has been modified."
Margaret frowned.
"What?"
Lucia pointed toward the final page.
A newer authorization had been inserted.
My name appeared at the bottom.
Alongside Connor's.
But I had never signed it.
The document purported to transfer authority over my trust assets to Connor Walsh.
My hands went cold.
Then I noticed the date.
Two days before the crash.
May you like
Connor had already planned to take everything.
And according to the filing, he'd claimed I was dead.
