Chapter 10 - Elise Had Warned Corinne Before She DiedBeatrice found a copy of the letter in an old storage box.
Not because she had hidden it.
Because Elise photocopied almost everything important during the final year of her life.
Cancer had taught her not to trust memory.
Medication.
Exhaustion.
Appointments.
So she kept copies.
The paper was folded inside a folder labeled CHILDREN — PERSONAL.
Alistair sat alone before reading it.
Corinne,
This is awkward, and I know you will probably resent me for writing it.
Alistair stopped.
Elise's voice lived inside every sentence.
Direct but not cruel.
I know you care about Alistair.
Corinne had cared about him while Elise was alive.
The thought made his stomach tighten.
Elise continued.
I don't know what the future will look like after I'm gone. I don't get to decide that. If you are part of his life someday, I will not haunt you for it.
Alistair covered his mouth.
She had known.
Or suspected.
But there was more.
What I am asking is simple: do not make my children pay for the fact that I existed first.
He closed his eyes.
Willa and Theo will love people after me. I want that. I want them surrounded by people who are kind enough not to turn memory into competition.
Alistair stared through tears.
Then the final paragraph.
If you ever become family to them, be family. Do not become a replacement. And if you cannot love them without resenting the pieces of me they carry, please stay away from them.
Elise.
That was all.
No accusation.
No threat.
Just a dying mother identifying a risk nobody else wanted to see.
Alistair found Beatrice in the laundry room later.
“Did Corinne receive this?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Elise mailed it.”
“Did Corinne respond?”
“I don't know.”
“Did Elise ever mention it again?”
“One time.”
“What did she say?”
Beatrice looked sad.
“She said Corinne never answered.”
Alistair felt anger rising.
He forced it down.
The letter did not prove Corinne had planned anything then.
It proved only that Elise sensed emotional competition.
Nothing more.
He refused to invent crimes because he was angry.
That distinction mattered.
Rachel agreed when he showed her.
“Emotionally significant. Legally limited.”
“I know.”
“But it may explain motive.”
“Resentment.”
“Yes.”
Alistair looked toward the children playing outside with his mother.
Willa kicked a soccer ball toward Theo.
He missed.
She exaggerated disappointment until he laughed.
Normal.
They deserved normal.
Rachel continued.
“We found more financial records.”
“Malcolm?”
“And Corinne.”
He turned.
“What?”
“There was a side agreement.”
“With Stone Ridge?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Malcolm's company.”
She handed him documents.
Corinne had invested $150,000 in Malcolm's consulting firm two years earlier.
Alistair stared.
“She never told me.”
“Separate funds.”
“Fine. What's the connection?”
“His placement commissions reduce debt he owes her.”
Alistair understood.
If Theo and Willa were enrolled, Malcolm got paid.
Money then flowed back indirectly to Corinne through debt repayment.
“So she did profit.”
“Potentially.”
The emotional and financial motives overlapped.
Children gone.
Elise's influence diminished.
Money returned.
Control increased.
Rachel pointed to another line.
“And if the placement continued beyond six months, Stone Ridge would bill approximately $360,000 annually.”
“From the trusts.”
“That appears to have been the plan.”
Alistair laughed bitterly.
“My children were revenue.”
Rachel didn't disagree.
Then Detective Brennan called.
Dr. Julianne Frost had agreed to cooperate.
The family counselor claimed she believed Alistair had consented to treatment.
She had communicated almost entirely through Corinne.
She had never met Alistair.
Never verified directly.
And most concerning—
she had relied heavily on behavioral reports written by Corinne.
“Did she recommend Stone Ridge?” Alistair asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Based on what she believed was escalating family instability.”
“Which Corinne reported.”
“Mostly.”
“Did Dr. Frost ever talk to the children alone?”
“A few minutes per session.”
Alistair closed his eyes.
A professional had helped build a decision around information controlled by the very person harming them.
“Does she admit she was wrong?”
“She admits she should have independently verified parental consent.”
“That isn't the same.”
“No.”
Brennan continued.
“She provided something useful.”
“What?”
“An email from Corinne.”
Alistair waited.
“Corinne asked how long children typically need to be away before they stop ‘idealizing a deceased parent.’”
His stomach turned.
“What did Frost say?”
“That grief is not something to extinguish and that residential treatment is not appropriate for that purpose.”
Alistair exhaled.
At least one line had been drawn.
“But Corinne replied.”
“What?”
“She wrote: THEN HOW LONG UNTIL THEY STOP COMPARING ME TO HER?”
Alistair looked at Elise's letter.
There it was.
The thing Elise had feared.
Not love.
Competition.
A dead woman had become Corinne's rival.
And Theo and Willa were the living evidence that Corinne could never be first.
That night, Willa asked to sleep in the same room as Theo.
Alistair allowed it.
At midnight, he checked on them.
Theo was asleep.
Willa wasn't.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Did Mom know Corinne?”
Alistair stood in the doorway.
“A little.”
“Did she like her?”
He thought about the letter.
“Your mom hoped Corinne would be kind to you.”
Willa looked toward Theo.
“She wasn't.”
“No.”
“Are you going to divorce her?”
The question arrived simply.
Alistair sat on the edge of the bed.
“Yes.”
He hadn't said it aloud before.
Now that he did, there was no hesitation.
Willa's shoulders relaxed.
Then she whispered:
“Good.”
And Alistair realized his daughter had been waiting for him to choose.
May you like
Not between wives.
Between peace and safety.
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