Chapter 7 - Unearthing the Past
The news of the indictment made the front pages of the local newspapers.
“Mother and Sister Indicted in Horrific Attempted Murder-for-Insurance Scheme.”
With Evelyn and Tessa locked away awaiting trial, the district attorney granted me legal access to Evelyn’s house alongside a court-appointed administrator to secure my personal belongings, birth certificate, and childhood heirlooms before the property was placed into foreclosure.
Accompanied by Michael, my victim advocate, I walked into my childhood home for the first time in five years.
The house smelled of stale coffee, old dust, and damp carpets. It was a house built on secrets, where every hallway held the memory of a harsh word, a cold dismissal, or a slammed door.
I went straight to the small study near the back of the house—Evelyn’s private sanctuary where she kept her locked filing cabinets.
Using the keys provided by the estate trustee, I unlocked the heavy green metal cabinet in the corner. I wasn't just looking for my birth certificate; I wanted to understand how deep the rot truly went.
In the bottom drawer, hidden beneath layers of old tax returns, I found a thick, dusty leather binder marked ‘Family Affairs.’
I sat down at the wooden desk and opened it.
What I found inside made my blood run cold.
Tucked inside the binder were old medical records from twenty years ago—records belonging to my father, who had passed away when I was six years old.
Growing up, Evelyn had always told me that my father had died of a sudden, tragic heart attack in his sleep. She had used his death to paint herself as a selfless, grieving widow who sacrificed everything to raise two daughters alone.
But the medical examiner's report from 2006 told a completely different story.
My father hadn't died of a heart attack. He had died of acute organ toxicity caused by prolonged exposure to high doses of prescription digitalis—a heavy heart medication he had never been prescribed.
At the bottom of the old autopsy report was a handwritten note from a private investigator Evelyn had hired twenty years ago, detailing a quiet, out-of-court financial settlement with a life insurance company following my father’s death.
A settlement worth four hundred thousand dollars.
My hands shook violently as I turned the page. There was a copy of the check, made out directly to Evelyn Vance.
She hadn't just tried to kill me for insurance money.
She had done it before. She had killed my father twenty years ago, gotten away with it because no one suspected a grieving wife, used the money to buy this house, and when the money ran out, she set her sights on me.
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I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers and dialed Detective Lin’s direct line.
"Detective Lin," I whispered, staring at the yellowed autopsy report of the man whose face I barely remembered. "You need to come to my mother’s house right now. We need to exhume my father."
