I stumbled backward, clutching the letter. My mind whirled, a cacophony of disbelief and betrayal. The children—our children—had they truly conspired against us? Against me? And if Richard had suspected foul play, could he really still be alive?

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, and I quickly concealed the documents. My heart raced as Natalie appeared in the doorway, her face half-hidden in shadow.

Her eyes flicked to the desk, and for a fleeting moment, I saw something in her gaze that chilled me to the core—an awareness, a calculation.

“Everything alright, Mom?” she asked, her voice smooth, practiced.