The Next Wife by Kaira Rouda (speld decodable readers txt) 📕

Bob says, “I’m so sorry. Of course it’s a fake. The will doesn’t even mention Ashlyn. But until we have a chance to contest it in court, we may need to just go along with them. We’re a public company now, and we don’t want to tip off the investors that there is an internal battle over control of the company.”

I don’t turn around. I don’t want Bob and Sandra to see my expression when I’m not sure what is showing. “There is no battle. I’m contesting this immediately. Challenge it in court. It’s a fraud. Start the filing now.”

Sandra says, “Of course. We all know John wouldn’t do this. It must be fake.”

Exactly. I take a deep breath and turn around. “So, let me get this straight. I am supposed to believe that Tish owns half of EventCo now, we’re supposed to be co-presidents, and Ashlyn has been cut out. No.”

I don’t say anything else. Sandra leaves my office first, shaking her head. I will get rid of this upstart. Tish will not take any part of my company. Not now, not ever.

I will win.

“I’m serious, Bob. I want you to personally direct the entire law firm. Drop everything else. Tell them I’ll fight this as long and as hard as it takes. All hands on deck.”

He wipes his brow with the back of his hand. “I’m on it.”

“You’d better hurry. I’m worried about the value of our stock if word of this gets out to our investors, the employees, or the financial trades. It could be devastating. How did John let this happen? Her happen?” I walk behind my desk. The bookshelves behind me are dotted with photos, mostly of Ashlyn.

I study one from our last Christmas together as a family. My parents joined us in Telluride. The photo is of Ashlyn and me with my mom and dad, standing outside on the deck of our condominium. Snow covers our hair like confetti. John took the photo.

“I’ll fix this.” Bob is at the door.

“No, I’ll fix it. You get me the facts. Now.”

He nods and is out the door.

I try to imagine, for a moment, a staff meeting led by Tish and me. It would never happen. She doesn’t know the first thing about our business. I only tolerated John because he had institutional knowledge and capital connections. Aside from that, I run things around here.

Once his affair with Tish became known, John and I had maintained some semblance of unity at work, aside from the first few awkward months when John would invite Tish into the meetings. That was something I put a stop to by pointing out those meetings were only for executives. John and I had made it work. I had made it work, for the good of the company. I wasn’t happy about it, but I suffered through it.

But this, the two of us here in my offices, this will never work. I won’t allow it.

I grab my briefcase, walk to my couch, and open my laptop. I have a new plan.

I search the internet for the law offices of George Price and find it in Pineville, Kentucky. I call the number listed.

“Offices of George Price. If you have a problem with the law, with the man, with anybody, we can help,” the receptionist says. “Hello? This is Mary? How can I help?”

“Hello, Mary, my name is Mabel Johnson. I’m thinking of hiring Mr. Price for a legal case, but I need to be sure he doesn’t have a conflict of interest,” I say. I’m winging it, but I need to find out more about this creep. “Does he have a niece named Terry Jane or Tish?”

“Oh, he sure does, ma’am, is that who referred you? They’re so close, it’s sweet. I think he looks after her like a daddy,” Mary says.

“That’s so nice,” I say. There is nothing criminal about hiring your uncle to represent you, of course. My eyes glance at the signature page of the fake will. John’s name has been forged, obviously, but I look at the witness names. One of them is named Mary. Mary Loveless. My heart beats faster.

“Mr. Price is out of the office today. Could I leave him a message?” Mary asks.

“Is your last name Loveless, Mary?” I ask. “I have some kin down south with that last name.”

Mary takes a moment. “How do you know my last name?”

“Just a lucky guess,” I say. I look at the other witness signature: Sarah L. Byrne. “Say, do you know how I can reach Sarah Byrne?”

Silence. I think she hung up on me.

“Mary? Hello?” I hang up. She will be easy to find again if I need her. I look closely at the signature of the other witness. Mary acted so suspicious hanging up on me like that. For sure she knows Sarah.

I do a Google search and bingo. Sarah L. Byrne is on Facebook, and she lives in Pineville. Her sister, Mary, loves to babysit Sarah’s kids. How perfect. The Loveless sisters should be easy to deal with. George didn’t search very hard for witnesses for the will. One is his only employee, the other, her sister.

As I begin further research, there’s a knock on my door. It’s Ashlyn.

“Hey, I’m glad you stopped by. I’d feel better if you went home for the day. Turn on the alarm?”

“I’m fine, Mom. Stop worrying,” she says. “Did Dad have a new will like Tish said?”

“Supposedly. But look at this. This is not your dad’s signature. We’ve signed contracts together a million times. And these witnesses and the notary? Well, don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

“I know you will,” she says. “I do have a lot to do, so I’ll head out. See you later.”

“See you at home, honey,” I say and turn back to my computer. I’m not leaving the office yet. I have things to do.

I call Lance, who answers on the first ring. “I cannot believe I gave her the key to John’s