She couldn’t have been older than twenty-seven.
“What stopped you?”
She looked down.
“My mother has a serious disability. I pay most of her bills. Victor knew that.”
Her voice broke.
“He told me if I said anything about the property transaction, he’d make sure I never found another job in the industry.”
I felt an unexpected ache.
Fear had trapped this young woman in a different way.
Erin opened the envelope.
Inside were copies of emails, meeting notes, and internal instructions concerning Rosebank.
One message, sent by Sabrina, made my blood turn cold.
It instructed staff to describe me as elderly, emotionally attached to the property, and unable to make practical financial decisions.
Another outlined a plan to persuade Caleb that moving me would be beneficial to my health.
A third contained the words that hurt most.
Once she’s out of the house, she won’t have the energy to fight.
Caleb read the message twice.
His jaw tightened.
Erin watched him.
“There’s more.”
She removed a printed email.
Sabrina had requested estimates for removing the greenhouse before the planned subdivision work began.
The estimate included disposal of mature rosebushes, demolition of the wooden garden structures, and removal of the stone bench.
The same bench where Michael had held my hand during his final summer.
I pressed my fingers against my mouth.
Caleb stood abruptly and walked toward the window.
His shoulders rose and fell.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he turned.
“Did she know those roses were my father’s?”
Erin nodded.
