Chapter 9 - The Night Michael Went to Her BedroomRebecca Sloan hired a forensic analyst.
By the following afternoon, they had proof that several messages Anna claimed Rachel sent had been fabricated.
Not enough for court yet.
But enough to shift the balance.
Two screenshots used a font spacing inconsistent with Rachel’s phone model.
Another showed a battery percentage that didn’t match cloud device records.
One message supposedly sent while Rachel had been speaking at a foundation luncheon appeared to have been created on a tablet.
Rebecca was encouraged.
Rachel wasn’t.
Because another discovery arrived the same day.
Security footage from six weeks earlier.
1:12 a.m.
Michael walking through the staff corridor.
He stopped outside Anna’s bedroom.
Knocked.
Anna opened the door wearing a robe.
Michael entered.
The door closed.
He came out eighteen minutes later.
Rachel watched the footage three times.
Rebecca sat beside her.
“Did you know about this?”
“No.”
“Ask before assuming.”
Rachel gave her a bitter look.
“You’re telling the woman whose maid whispered ‘I slept with your husband’ not to assume anything?”
“I’m telling you Anna wants you reacting before thinking.”
That stopped Rachel.
She called Michael.
He came to Rebecca’s office an hour later.
Rachel placed the laptop in front of him.
“Explain.”
Michael saw the footage.
His shoulders dropped.
“I forgot about that.”
“You forgot going into Anna’s bedroom at one in the morning?”
“She called me.”
“Why?”
“She said someone was outside her window.”
Rachel stared.
“What?”
“She heard tapping. She thought someone was trying to get inside.”
“So you went alone.”
“Yes.”
“In the middle of the night.”
“I checked the window.”
“For eighteen minutes?”
“I checked the room, then she started talking about her mother.”
Rachel felt anger rising again.
“Did she touch you?”
“No.”
“Did she kiss you?”
“No.”
“Did you sit on her bed?”
Michael hesitated.
Rebecca noticed.
Rachel noticed more.
“You sat on her bed.”
“For maybe thirty seconds.”
Rachel stood.
Michael lifted his hands.
“Nothing happened.”
“Do you have any idea what that looks like?”
“Yes.”
“No, Michael. You apparently don’t.”
Rachel began pacing.
“Did she know cameras covered that corridor?”
“Probably.”
Rebecca spoke.
“Then consider why she chose her bedroom.”
Michael looked at her.
Rebecca continued.
“She may have wanted footage showing you entering.”
Rachel stopped.
Of course.
Anna collected evidence.
Not necessarily true evidence.
Suggestive evidence.
Enough to create doubt.
Michael rubbed his forehead.
“I was an idiot.”
Rachel looked at him.
“That’s the first thing you’ve said all week that I completely agree with.”
He accepted it.
Then his phone buzzed.
Michael checked the screen.
His face changed.
“What?”
He handed it to Rebecca.
An email from the Whitmore family attorney, Gerald Mason.
SUBJECT: URGENT — ANNA BELL CLAIM
Rebecca opened the attachment.
Anna had formally filed notice asserting potential rights against Richard Whitmore’s estate.
Not merely as an alleged daughter.
She was claiming that Richard had created a handwritten codicil to his will in 1999 promising Claire Bell’s child a percentage of Whitmore family assets.
Estimated value:
$18 million.
Rachel read the number twice.
Suddenly the previous settlements looked small.
Four hundred thousand dollars from Laura Bennett.
A few hundred thousand from other families.
Those had not been Anna’s goal.
They had been practice.
Financing.
Preparation.
Anna had spent years learning how wealthy families reacted under pressure.
Now she had entered the one house she actually cared about.
Michael looked stunned.
Rebecca turned to him.
“Does this codicil exist?”
“I’ve never seen it.”
Anna’s filing included a copy.
A handwritten page signed R. Whitmore.
Michael examined it.
“It looks like his signature.”
Rebecca did not respond.
Rachel focused on one sentence.
To my child with Claire Bell, I leave ten percent of my personal estate.
She looked up.
“If this is real, Anna has a legitimate claim.”
Rebecca nodded.
“If she proves paternity.”
Michael frowned.
“Then why was she reluctant to do DNA?”
Nobody answered.
Rachel read the document again.
Then she noticed the date.
October 17, 1999.
Anna’s birth certificate listed her birthday as November 3.
Richard would have known Claire was pregnant.
Everything seemed plausible.
Too plausible.
Rachel’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Rachel Whitmore?”
“Yes.”
A man’s voice spoke urgently.
“My name is Thomas Reed. I used to work for Richard Whitmore.”
Rachel straightened.
“How did you get this number?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“What do you want?”
“To tell you Claire Bell never stole that necklace.”
Rachel looked at Michael.
Thomas continued.
“And Richard Whitmore was not Anna’s father.”
Rachel’s grip tightened.
“How do you know?”
May you like
The man hesitated.
“Because I am.”
Related Stories
