Chapter 9
The letter was from a lawyer in Detroit.
Addressed to me and Harrison.
I opened it with trembling hands.
*Dear Mrs. Caldwell and Mr. Caldwell,*
*I am writing to you regarding the estate of the late Marcus Webb. Mr. Webb died last week in prison. He was serving a sentence for fraud and theft. Before his death, he made a statement. And he left a letter for you.*
*Mr. Webb was Sloan Caldwell's accomplice and lover. He was involved in the plan to defraud your family. And before he died, he wanted to come clean. He wanted to tell you everything. To make amends, in whatever small way he could.*
*His statement and his letter are enclosed. They contain information that may be of interest to you. And they may help you find closure.*
*Sincerely,*
*James Porter, Attorney at Law*
I pulled out Marcus's letter.
Harrison came and stood beside me.
We read it together.
*To the Caldwell family,*
*I know you have no reason to believe anything I say. And I don't blame you. I'm not a good man. I've done terrible things. To a lot of people. Including you.*
*Sloan and I were together for over two years. We planned everything. Targeting Harrison. The marriage. Moving into your house. The plan to take the house and the money. All of it. I was the one who suggested most of it. I was the one who pushed her. I'm not saying Sloan is innocent. She's as bad as I am. Maybe worse. But I was the architect. The mastermind.*
*But there's something I need to tell you. Something Sloan never told you. Something she kept from even me, at first.*
*She was pregnant. Not recently. A year and a half ago. Before she married Harrison. And the baby was mine. Not Harrison's.*
*She had an abortion. She didn't want anything to interfere with the plan. A baby would have complicated things. Would have made it harder to leave Harrison when the time came. So she got rid of it. And she never told me. I found out later. From her doctor. And that's when I started to realize what kind of woman she really was. Cold. Calculating. Capable of anything.*
*I stayed with her because I was greedy. Because I wanted the money. But I never trusted her again. And I started collecting evidence. Against her. Against everything we'd planned. I knew that someday, she would turn on me. And I wanted to be ready.*
*I'm leaving all that evidence to you. Bank records. Text messages. Emails. Recordings. Everything. It's all in a safety deposit box. The key is enclosed. You can use it to make sure she never gets out of prison. To make sure she can never hurt anyone else.*
*I'm not asking for forgiveness. I don't deserve it. I'm just trying to do one good thing before I die. To make up for a lifetime of bad.*
*I'm sorry for everything I did to your family. I hope you can find peace. And happiness. You deserve it.*
*Marcus Webb*
I stared at the letter.
Sloan had been pregnant with Marcus's baby.
Before she married Harrison.
And she'd had an abortion.
Because it would have interfered with her plan.
She'd been willing to kill her own baby for money.
And then she'd had the nerve to claim a miscarriage.
To blame me.
To use a baby that never existed as a weapon.
She was more evil than I'd ever imagined.
Harrison was quiet.
Pale.
"I'm glad it wasn't mine," he said finally. "I'm glad I never had a child with that woman."
I put my arm around him.
"Me too, baby. Me too."
We went to the bank the next day.
We opened the safety deposit box.
Marcus had been thorough.
Everything was there.
Text messages between him and Sloan.
Planning every step.
Emails.
Bank records.
Recordings of their conversations.
Everything we needed.
And more.
There was also evidence of other crimes.
Other victims.
Other families Sloan and Marcus had targeted.
Other people they'd destroyed.
We turned everything over to the police.
And to the district attorney.
Sloan's appeals were denied immediately.
And new charges were filed against her.
Based on the evidence from Marcus.
She would never get out of prison.
Never.
It was finally over.
Completely.
Truly.
Forever.
That evening, Frank came over.
We sat on the porch.
Drinking wine.
Watching the sunset.
Harrison was inside.
Cooking dinner.
Laughing.
Happy.
"Everything is finally over," I said.
Frank squeezed my hand.
"And everything is just beginning."
He was right.
A new chapter was starting.
For all of us.
Harrison met someone.
A nice woman.
A teacher.
Kind.
Sweet.
Honest.
Her name was Emily.
She had a little girl.
Seven years old.
Chloe.
They were perfect for each other.
Harrison was happy.
Truly happy.
For the first time since he'd met Sloan.
And I was happy for him.
Frank and I got serious.
He asked me to marry him.
On the porch of the cottage.
At sunset.
With a ring that had belonged to his mother.
I said yes.
We were married a few months later.
Small ceremony.
Just family and close friends.
Harrison gave me away.
Brenda was my matron of honor.
Marge was there.
Frank's children and grandchildren were there.
It was perfect.
Richard would have approved.
I know he would have.
We split our time between the main house and the cottage.
Frank moved in with me.
But we kept his house too.
For when his children came to visit.
We had everything.
Two homes.
Two families.
Lots of love.
Lots of laughter.
Lots of memories.
The house was always full.
Always busy.
Always happy.
Chloe, Emily's little girl, called me Grandma Lorraine.
And I loved her like my own.
Frank's grandchildren called me Grandma too.
And I loved them just as much.
I had more family than I'd ever dreamed possible.
More love than I'd ever known.
Life was good.
Perfect.
But there was one more thing I wanted to do.
One more gift I wanted to give.
To Richard.
To my family.
To myself.
I was going to write a book.
Our story.
Everything we'd been through.
The good.
The bad.
The ugly.
And the beautiful.
I wanted people to know.
To learn from our mistakes.
To find hope in our story.
To understand that it's never too late to stand up for yourself.
Never too late to heal.
Never too late to be happy.
I sat down at my desk.
I pulled out a notebook.
May you like
And I started to write.
*My name is Lorraine Caldwell. And I'm sixty-five years old. This is the story of how I burned my daughter-in-law's purse and found myself again...*
