“What? Get rid of me? Take over the house?”
“I didn’t turn your father against anyone, Thomas. He made his own observations and decisions.”
“That’s not what Violet says.” His voice was accusatory. “She says you’ve been feeding Dad lies about her for years, making him think she was trying to push you out.”
I felt a wave of sadness.
Even now, after what he’d heard at the law office, he was still taking Violet’s word over mine.
“Thomas, when have I ever lied to you?”
He faltered slightly.
“You—you’ve always been manipulative in your own quiet way, making Dad feel guilty about spending time with us instead of you.”
“Is that what Violet told you?” I asked softly.
“She says you resented her from the beginning because she took your place as the most important woman in my life.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed, not out of humor, but from sheer disbelief.
“Thomas, you’re 43 years old. I’ve never expected to be the most important woman in your life since you were a teenager. All I’ve ever wanted was to be treated with basic respect and included in family activities.”
“Dad’s will is completely unfair. I should have gotten the business. I’ve been working there for 5 years.”
“As a vice president who comes in late and leaves early,” I pointed out, “the position your father created for you because you couldn’t hold down a job elsewhere.”
His face flushed deeper.
“That’s not true.”
“Thomas, you were fired from three jobs before your father hired you. The company has been carrying you, not the other way around.”
“Violet was right,” he muttered. “You’re just a bitter old woman who can’t stand to see others happy.”
The word stung, but I refused to show it.
Instead, I walked to the study, opened the bottom drawer of George’s desk, and pulled out a thick folder.
“Your father kept records,” I said, returning to the kitchen, “not because I asked him to, but because he was concerned about what would happen to me after he was gone.”
I spread the contents on the table.
Photographs of Violet going through my personal papers when she thought no one was watching.
Printed emails where she discussed with friends her plans to get the old lady into a home.
A log of dates and times when family events were planned specifically when I couldn’t attend.
And then the recordings.
I played one on my phone.
“I can’t wait until George is gone.”
Violet’s voice rang out clearly.
“Ellen won’t know what hit her. Will have her declared incompetent so fast her head will spin. The house, the money, everything will be ours.”
Thomas stared at the evidence, his face draining of color.
“This—this could be manipulated, taken out of context.”
“There are dozens of recordings, Thomas, dating back 3 years. Your father may have been dying, but he wasn’t stupid.”
I played another.
“Thomas is so easy to control.”
Violet’s voice again.
“He believes whatever I tell him about his mother. It’s almost sad how gullible he is.”
Thomas flinched as if I’d slapped him.
“Your father never wanted to show you these,” I said quietly. “He hoped Violet would change or that you would see through her on your own. But he made sure I would have protection if neither of those things happened.”
Thomas sank into a chair, his anger deflating.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“Would you have believed me? Or would you have told Violet, who would have convinced you I was making things up?”
He didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
“I don’t blame you entirely, Thomas. Violet is manipulative and convincing, but you chose to believe the worst about your mother, a woman who has never given you reason to doubt her honesty.”
Thomas stared at the pile of evidence, then rubbed his hands over his face.