I never thought I’d be a widow at 34. My name is Bridget. Three months ago, I lost my husband Adam to a sudden aneurysm. We had been married for 11 years. I went to my nephew Lucas’s first birthday party just days after his funeral. That’s when my sister Cassandra dropped a bomb. She said that Lucas was really Adam’s son and showed everyone a will that said he would get half of my $800,000 house. She didn’t know why I could hardly stop laughing.
We met 12 years ago at a charity auction for kids with cancer. He outbid everyone else for a painting I had been admiring all night as I was volunteering to help set up the silent auction goods. It was a watercolor painting of the Boston skyline at sunset, with bright oranges and purples spilling into the harbor.
He came right up to me after winning and gave it to me. “I saw you looking at this all night,” he remarked, and his blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “I believe it belongs to you.”
Adam was kind, thoughtful, and always willing to help. I fell hard and fast. The next night, we went on our first date, and it felt like we had known one other forever.
He was a corporate lawyer who was smart but humble. He was the kind of person who recalled the names of waitstaff and asked them real questions about their life. Eight months after we met, he asked me to marry him on the waterfront, where the real skyline looked like the image that brought us together.
We acquired our Victorian home in Beacon Hill not long after our first anniversary. It cost $800,000, which was a lot of money, but Adam had just become a partner at his firm, and I was becoming known as a good interior designer. The house needed maintenance, but it had good bones. The ceilings were high, and there was a tiny garden in the rear where I could see my future kids playing.
Those kids never showed up. Not because they didn’t try. For years, we made plans, drew maps, and hoped. Then the physicians came, along with the tests and the operations.
We lost our funds and our spirits after four rounds of IVF. I vividly remember the last time it didn’t work: the quiet drive home from the clinic, Adam reaching across the console to grasp my hand, and neither of us saying anything because we both knew. That was the end of that path.
Adam stated that night as we sat on our porch swing, “We can still have a beautiful life.” “You and I.” That’s enough.
He really meant it. We carefully put our dreams back together. We went on a trip. We put everything we had into our jobs.
We fixed up the house room by room until it was the beautiful home I had always dreamed of. When I wanted to start my own interior design business, Adam helped me. Life was full for us, even though it wasn’t what we had intended.
Cassandra, my younger sister, was always on the edge of our enjoyment. At 30, she was four years younger than me and had always been the wild kid of the family. I was learning about design and starting a business, but she was going from job to job and relationship to relationship. Our parents were always worried about her, which meant they made excuses for her bad behavior and helped her out of money problems over and over again.
Cassandra and I have always had a difficult connection. She was definitely gorgeous, and she had a natural charm that drew others to her. But there was always a sense of competitiveness coming from her.
She had to do better than me if I did something. She suddenly became interested in law students when I started dating Adam. She moaned about her apartment for months after we bought our house, hoping our parents would assist her get a better one.
It was hard work, but Adam told me to keep the relationship going. He would remind me, “She is your only sister.” “Family is important.”
Cassandra started dating Tyler, a bartender she met while out with friends, two years ago. He was ruggedly good-looking, with tattoos all over his arms and a motorcycle that our parents didn’t like. From the outside, their relationship looked unstable, with big fights and passionate makeups.
Then, over Thanksgiving dinner the year before Adam died, they announced that they were pregnant. To say the least, it was surprising. I was living up to what society expected of me. But there she was, crying and making dramatic statements about the miracle of life to tell everyone she was pregnant.
I felt the familiar sting of jealousy. Cassandra had accidently done what we had been trying so hard to do after all of our trials and suffering. But I pushed those feelings away. I was really delighted for her, and I was determined to be the best aunt I could be to her child.
Lucas weighed 8 pounds 4 ounces when he was born. I brought flowers and a blanket I had knitted by hand to the hospital. From the beginning, Cassandra seemed to be overwhelmed by being a mother. She would often contact me in tears about Lucas’s colic or how tired she was. I helped out as much as I could, including staying up all night to babysit Lucas so she could sleep.
Adam didn’t spend as much time with Lucas as I did. Looking back, I believed it was because we were having trouble becoming pregnant that it could be hard for him to bond with a baby that wasn’t ours. He was always nice when Cassandra brought Lucas home, but he kept a distance that I never questioned at the time.
Then there was that awful Tuesday morning. Adam said he had a headache before he left for work. I told him to remain home, but he had an appointment with a client that was very important. He kissed me goodbye and said, “Just a migraine.” “I’ll call you after the meeting.”
That phone call never arrived. I got one from the hospital instead. He had already left by the time I got there. They stated it was a brain aneurysm. There was nothing that could have been done. He was 36 years old.
The next few days were a jumble of plans and sadness. Cassandra was curiously missing for most of it, sending texts that Lucas was sick or that she couldn’t get a babysitter. She did show up to the funeral, but only for a short time. She kept to herself and left before the reception. At the time, I was too sad to think about it much.
A week after we buried Adam, Lucas turned one. I really didn’t want to go to a kid’s birthday party, but my family made me. My mom kept saying, “Adam would want you to go,” during one of her regular check-in calls. “He always said that family came first.”
I drove to Cassandra’s little rental house in a less attractive section of town with a wrapped gift on the passenger seat and black circles under my eyes that no amount of concealer could hide. Since Adam died, I hadn’t slept much. I spent nights staring at his vacant side of the bed, longing for a warmth that was no longer there.
I parked behind a line of cars and took a few deep breaths before going inside to get the gift. I thought that no one should have to pretend to be happy so soon after losing their partner. But I put on a smile and knocked on the door.
Jenna, Cassandra’s friend, opened the door and her eyes widened a little when she saw me. “Oh Bridget, you made it,” she murmured, her voice sounding strange. She looked back over her shoulder before moving to the side. “Come in.” Everyone is outside in the backyard.
There were blue balloons and streamers all over the little house. There was a sign that said “Happy First Birthday, Lucas!” across the wall in the living room. It went all the way over the living room wall. I saw a bunch of folks I didn’t know whispering together in the kitchen. They stopped talking and followed me with their eyes as I walked by.
More visitors stood in small groups in the backyard, each holding a plastic cup. I saw my parents sitting at a picnic table in an awkward way, looking uncomfortable. When my father saw me, he stood up, and his expression showed relief.
“Bridget,” he exclaimed, hugging me. “We weren’t sure you’d come.”
“Of course I came,” I said, putting the gift on the right table. “Where is the birthday boy?” »
“With Cassandra,” my mother answered, not quite looking me in the eye. “They should be out soon for the cake.”
I nervously talked to people, receiving their sympathies and avoiding questions about how I was doing. Everyone seemed on edge, and when I got close, discussions stopped right away. I thought it was because people didn’t know how to act around a new widow.
Cassandra came out of the home after 30 awkward minutes, holding Lucas on her hip. She had on a new dress that I had never seen before. Her hair was newly highlighted. Lucas looked so cute in a small button-up shirt and bow tie. His plump legs kicked with delight at all the attention.
Cassandra hardly looked at me as she put Lucas in his high chair. She looked full of energy, almost euphoric, as she walked about the yard with an uncommon amount of confidence. She tapped a spoon on her cup to get everyone’s attention.
“Thank you all for coming to celebrate Lucas’s special day,” she said, as her voice carried across the yard. As many of you know, this past year has been filled with surprises and problems.
The visitors looked at each other. All of a sudden, my mom was really interested in her shoes.
“I’ve been keeping a secret,” Cassandra said, putting her palm on Lucas’s head. “One that I can’t hide anymore, especially after what happened recently.”
I felt a chill down my spine. There was something extremely wrong.
She said, “Lucas is not Tyler’s son,” and her eyes met mine across the yard. “He’s Adam’s.”
The world seemed to come to a halt. I could hear people gasping and my father stiffening next to me, but it was all background noise to the rushing in my ears.
Cassandra went on, her voice firm and practiced, “Bridget’s husband and I had a short affair two years ago.” “It was a mistake, a weak moment for both of us.” We didn’t aim to hurt anyone, but things like this happen.
I stood still, unable to understand what I was hearing. My sister said she had sex with my husband. That her boy, who I had lovingly cared for as my nephew, was actually Adam’s son. It was so silly that I almost laughed out loud.
Cassandra wasn’t done yet. She took a folded piece of paper out of her purse. “Adam knew the truth about Lucas.” She brought out the paper and said, “He changed his will before he died.” “He wanted to make sure his son was taken care of. As Lucas’s biological child, this will says that he should obtain half of the house that Adam and Bridget owned.
Everyone in the yard looked at me. I could see the pity, the sick curiosity, and the discomfort. My parents looked shocked, and my dad was half-standing, as if he wasn’t sure if he should step in.
And then, to everyone’s amazement, even mine, I felt a smile pull at my lips. Not a pleasant smile, but the type that occurs when something is so wrong that it almost makes you laugh. I pulled my lips together to keep the inappropriate laughter from coming out.
“Oh, I see,” I eventually responded, my voice steady and serene. I drank some water to buy time and keep myself from laughing in my sister’s face. “Can I see this will, Cassandra?” »
Her confident look wavered a little. It was evident that she didn’t expect this to happen. She moved over to me slowly and gave me the paper. It was a typed sheet with what seemed like Adam’s signature at the bottom.
I quickly scanned it and saw that it didn’t make sense right away. The formal language was all incorrect; it didn’t sound anything like the legal papers Adam had brought home. And the signature, which looked a lot like Adam’s, was obviously fake. The line that connected the A and D was wrong, and the last flourish was too strong.
I carefully folded the paper and gave it back to her. “Thanks for telling me this. “I think I need to leave now.”
“Is that all? Cassandra asked, her voice full of confusion. “Are you not going to say anything else?” »
I gently said, “Not right now,” as I picked up my purse. “This is Lucas’s day.” We can talk about this in private later.
I said farewell to my parents, who were still in shock, and promised to call them shortly. I could hear the whispers behind me as I walked to my car. The party mood was absolutely ruined.
Once I was safely inside my car and out of sight, I finally let out the laugh that had been trying to get out. At first, it was modest, but then it got bigger and bigger until I was crying. Not tears of delight, but a mix of sadness, indignation, and surprise at how bold my sister was.
Because Cassandra didn’t know something that Adam and I had never told anyone else. Something that made her long, cruel lie impossible.
Three years ago, long before Lucas was even born, the truth about Adam and Cassandra came out. We asked my sister over for supper to celebrate her new work at a marketing agency. This is the longest job she’s had so far. We opened a nice bottle of wine and Adam made his amazing lasagna.
It was a nice night until I had to leave to answer a work call from a customer who was having a design emergency. The call took longer than intended; I spent about 20 minutes chatting to a rich client about how to hang artwork.
The mood in the dining room was different when I came back. Adam seemed uneasy, and Cassandra was seated much closer to him than when I left. She was laughing at something I couldn’t hear and had her hand on his arm.
At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Cassandra had always been loving, and there had been a lot of wine. But later that night, when we were getting ready for bed, Adam seemed worried.
He sat on the edge of our bed and whispered, “I need to tell you something.” “And I don’t want it to cause problems between you and your sister, but I also don’t want to keep things from you.”
He told me that Cassandra had hit on him while I was on the phone. Nothing big happened. He made statements that were rude about how blessed I was to have him, and then he said he deserved someone who could really “appreciate” him. She laughed it off when he turned her down, claiming he was overly sensitive if he believed she was serious.
I was saddened, but not completely shocked. Cassandra had always gone too far. We chose to let it go as a one-time thing, something that happened because of booze and her competitive nature. But it wasn’t just one thing.
Cassandra sought ways to touch Adam while I wasn’t looking, sent him text messages that were both pleasant and flirtatious, and once showed up at his office uninvited and asked him to lunch. Adam set boundaries each time and told me right away. We talked to my parents about Cassandra’s behavior after the office incident. It didn’t go well.
They said that Adam was reading too much into friendly gestures and that Cassandra saw him as a brother. My mother even suggested, with good intentions but bad judgment, that Adam could be charmed by all the attention and making things worse than they are.
Adam and I made a choice that night. We would put some space between us and Cassandra without hurting our family. We turned down invitations that involved her, made sure we were never alone with her, and Adam disabled her number on his phone after she sent him a suggestive message late at night.
Then came the medical issue that changed everything. Adam had been in discomfort for weeks before he eventually went to see a urologist. The diagnosis was a varicocele, which is when veins in the scrotum get bigger and need surgery.
The operation went well, but there was a problem. The doctor suggested a vasectomy at the same surgery because the varicocele was so bad and could come back.
It was a hard choice, especially since we had trouble becoming pregnant in the past, but we all felt that it was the best thing for Adam’s health. Two years before Lucas was born, the vasectomy was done.
We didn’t tell anyone about this medical knowledge, not even our parents. We had learned how to keep our reproductive difficulties private after years of intrusive queries about not having kids. Only Adam, me, and Adam’s doctors knew.
Adam made a prediction that seemed paranoid at the time, but it came true after his operation. He replied, sitting in our garden with an ice pack hidden away, “Cassandra is not done.” “I think she might do something more extreme one day.”
I thought it was funny, but Adam was serious.
He made an appointment with our family lawyer, James Wilson, for the next week. I went with him and listened as Adam talked about Cassandra’s behavior and the surgery he had recently. James said to write down everything, like the unwelcome advances, the medical records that proved the vasectomy, and even Cassandra’s texts and emails.
James said, “You never know what might become important.” “Better to have paperwork and not need it than to wish you had it later.” We took his advise and made a file of everything that had to do with the problem.
Adam also made sure that everything would go to me if he died by correctly updating his will through official means. James maintained copies of all the papers, and we put the originals in a safety deposit box at the bank.
“Just in case,” Adam replied when we locked the box. “But I plan to be around to deal with any of Cassandra’s drama for at least another 50 years.”
The day after Lucas’s birthday party, I went straight to the bank. As he took me to the vault, the manager, who had known Adam and me for years, offered his sympathies. I sat by myself in the little viewing room and opened the box that Adam and I had loaded with what he jokingly dubbed our “disaster preparation kit.”
Inside was just what I needed: a notarized and properly executed copy of Adam’s will, which left everything to me. Medical documents show that he had a vasectomy two years before Lucas was born, which means he can’t be the father.
Adam had also kept a journal of every inappropriate interaction with Cassandra, including dates, times, and exact quotes. He also had printed copies of text messages she had sent him and a letter from our lawyer saying that he had seen Adam’s real will and was available to confirm its authenticity.
And in the bottom of the box, a sealed envelope with my name scrawled in Adam’s familiar handwriting. I opened it with shaking hands and started to read.
“My dearest Bridget,
You must have needed to look at these papers since something has happened to me. I hope that many years from now, when we are old and gray and Cassandra’s crazy behavior is only a funny memory, we can laugh about it.
But if not, and if the worst has happened and she has tried to hurt you while I was gone, please know that I did my best to get ready for every option. These papers will help you stay safe.
I know how much you care about your family and how loyal you are to the people you love. But you should be safe from people who want to take advantage of your kind heart. I adore you more than words can say, more than time. No matter what happens, remember this.
Adam.
As I read his words, tears flowed down my face. I could feel his love and protection reaching out to me even after he died. My husband, who is practical and thoughtful, had seen this coming. Maybe not the exact situation, but the idea that Cassandra may try to use his death to her benefit.
I carefully put everything back in the box, except for the copies of the medical documents, the real will, and some diary entries. After that, I called James Wilson and set up an appointment for that afternoon.
James Wilson’s law office was in a renovated brownstone in downtown Boston, a place that screamed “old money” and “discretion.” The receptionist knew me right away, even though I had only been there a few times with Adam. Her face softened with sorrow.
“Mrs. “Preston,” she replied, jumping up to welcome me. “Mr. Wilson is waiting for you. Please accept my sympathy for your loss.
James was in his 60s and had silver hair. He wore reading spectacles on the tip of his nose. He had been Adam’s mentor when Adam initially joined the company, and they had stayed close friends even when Adam switched to a separate practice.
When I walked in, he rose up and came around his desk to give me a quick hug. “Bridget,” he replied, pointing to a chair for me to sit in. “I was heartbroken to learn about Adam. He was one of the decent ones.
“Yes, he was,” I said, my voice breaking a little. “And it looks like he was also right about getting ready for the worst with my sister.”
I told him what had happened at the birthday celebration and showed him the fake will that Cassandra had given him.
James looked at it, and his face grew more and more worried. He finally stated, “This is a fake that looks like it was made by a novice.” “The language is utterly wrong, and the signature, while similar, would never hold up to expert scrutiny. It’s very disturbing that she made this at all.
I showed him the papers I had in the safety deposit box: Adam’s medical records proving that he had a vasectomy, his real will, and his notebook that recorded Cassandra’s conduct over the years.
James observed, “Adam was nothing if not thorough,” as he looked over the materials. “These medical records alone prove that her allegation about Lucas’s fatherhood is false. Two years before the child was born, the man had a vasectomy. “Adam can’t be the father because of biology.”
“What should I do?” I asked. “I don’t want to embarrass her in front of everyone, but I can’t let her take half of our home based on a lie.”
James leaned back in his chair and thought. “We need additional information first. I think you should hire a private investigator to find out what’s going on with Cassandra right now. There is probably more than just cruelty behind this. People don’t usually try to commit fraud like this unless they need money.
He suggested Frank Delaney, a former police detective who now worked as a private investigator and often worked for the company.
I agreed, and James called right away to give a rough idea of what was going on. Frank showed up an hour later. He was a stocky man with a Boston accent and a no-nonsense attitude. As I presented the issue, he made comprehensive notes and asked pointed questions about Cassandra’s job, money, and past relationships.
I realized that I didn’t know much about what was going on with my sister right now. Since Lucas was born, we had grown even farther apart. My efforts to be active as an aunt were often ignored or taken for granted.
Frank remarked, “I will need a few days.” “My first priority will be looking into her finances and her relationship with the child’s real father. Can you tell me more about him? »
I told her what little I knew about Tyler, the bartender Cassandra had been dating when she got pregnant. I had only met him a few times, and he didn’t seem interested in family events.
“I heard that they were still together, but she doesn’t talk about him much anymore,” I said. “I thought it was strange that the birthday boy’s father wasn’t at the party yesterday.”
Frank nodded and wrote down another note. “That’s a good place to start.” I’ll be in touch with you soon.
Three days later, Frank called and asked to meet with James at his workplace. Both men were looking at papers that were spread out on the conference table when I got there.
“Mrs. “Preston,” Frank said as soon as we sat down. “I have found some troubling things about your sister’s situation.”
His research showed that Cassandra was in a lot of trouble with money. She owed more than $75,000, which she had borrowed through credit cards, personal loans, and medical expenditures for Lucas, who had to have surgery for a heart condition immediately after birth. Her credit score was terrible, and she had been turned down for three more loans in the last month alone.
“She is also going to be evicted,” Frank said as he passed a piece of paper across the table. “This is a copy of the notice her landlord sent out last week. She has until the end of the month to pay four months’ worth of back rent or leave the property.
Tyler, on the other hand, seems to have left Cassandra and Lucas soon after the birth and moved to Seattle with a new girlfriend. He was only giving her $200 a month in child support, and even that was not always on time.
Frank replied, “I also found these,” and showed them printouts of text messages. “She has been telling her friends for weeks that she wants to take part of your house.” These are texts between her and a buddy named Jenna.
I knew the name because it was the woman who had let me in at the party. The messages were very bad.
“Adam’s death is terrible, but maybe this is finally my chance to get what I deserve.” That house is worth at least $800,000 now. If I do things well, Lucas and I will have a lovely little savings account.
“The will is almost done. Dave, my friend, is adept at Photoshop and found a picture of Adam’s signature online at a charity auction. “It looks like it’s real.”
“Bridget has always been the favorite.” It’s time for me to grab my part. She was with a terrific guy for 11 years. Now that he’s gone, the least she can do is split the money.
Reading my sister’s cold, calculated comments made me feel sick. This wasn’t just taking advantage of a situation. It was planned deception meant to take advantage of my sadness.
Frank whispered softly, “There is more.” “I looked into Tyler Martin’s past. He is the real father. He has been charged with domestic violence in the past and is now wanted in New Hampshire for not paying child support for another child. You wouldn’t want him near your nephew.
I sat there in shock, trying to figure everything out. My sister was more than just desperate. She was willing to ruin Adam’s reputation and our marriage to get out of debt, and the people she chose to be with put Lucas in a perilous situation.
“What am I supposed to do with all this?” I asked, gazing from James to Frank. “I can’t just tell everyone about all of this. Lucas didn’t do anything wrong. He is still my nephew.
James took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You have a lot of choices, Bridget. We could charge Cassandra with trying to commit fraud and forgery. That would probably get her in trouble with the law, and she might even have to go to jail because of the amount of money involved.
“Or,” he said, noticing how upset I was, “we could take care of this in private.” Show her the proof, make her take back her statements, and maybe come up with a plan that keeps both you and the child safe.
I left the conference with a heavy heart and a folder full of proof. That night, I phoned my therapist, Dr. Laurel Chen, who had been treating me since Adam died, and made an emergency appointment.
I told her everything that was going on in her quiet, plant-filled office. “I can’t see straight because I’m so mad,” I said. “But Lucas is only a baby. He didn’t do anything wrong. Cassandra is still my sister, no matter what.
Dr. Chen paid close attention and asked me questions from time to time regarding my connection with Cassandra over the years. She said, “It sounds like this pattern of competition and manipulation has been going on since childhood.” “The current situation is getting worse, not better.”
“What would you do? I begged.
“I can’t tell you what to do,” she said. “But I will stress that being kind doesn’t mean letting yourself be hurt. You may be nice and still set clear limits and punishments.
After a lot of thought, I chose what to do. I would talk to Cassandra in private about all the proof and give her a choice: face possible legal penalties for her deception or agree to a compromise that would help Lucas while holding her accountable.
The next morning, I called Cassandra with new resolve. When she picked up, I said, “We need to talk about the will.” “Can you come over to my house tomorrow afternoon?” Only you, not Lucas.
“I knew you would come around,” she said, sounding pleased with herself. “I’ll be there at 2.”
I spent the morning getting ready for Cassandra’s arrival by putting papers in a logical arrangement and setting up recording devices as James suggested. He had cautioned me, “Massachusetts is a two-party consent state,” so you can’t record her without her knowledge. You can ask her for permission at the outset of the talk, though, and say that it’s to make sure you both have a record of whatever agreement you make.
The doorbell rang at exactly 2 o’clock. I took a long breath to calm myself down before opening the door.
Cassandra stood on the porch in a new clothing that made her appear good. Her posture showed that she was confident. “Come in,” I said, and led her to the living room. I put two seats facing each other with a coffee table between them. On the table were a recorder, glasses of water, and a folder of papers.
“I hope you don’t mind if we record what we talk about. It seems smart to do this because what we’re talking about is legal.
Cassandra thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Of course, anything makes you feel better. I think this can be very easy; the will is apparent.
I turned on the recorder and said the date and time, as well as that Cassandra had agreed to be recorded. Then I sat back and looked at my sister’s face. “Before we talk about the will, I want to know exactly what you say happened between you and Adam.”
Cassandra started telling a story she had practiced about an affair that happened two years earlier. She said that she and Adam got together while he and I were “having problems.” She said they met numerous times at a hotel downtown, where Adam told her he was unhappy in our marriage and that Lucas was conceived during these meetings.
“He always meant to tell you,” she replied, her eyes wide with practiced honesty. “But then Lucas was born with a heart problem, and he didn’t want to make things worse. He did say he would take care of his son, though.
I listened without saying anything, writing down the parts of her story that didn’t make sense and the parts that didn’t match what I knew about Adam at that time. I started asking questions after she was done.
“Which hotel did you meet at?” I asked.
“The Mandarin Oriental,” she said right away.
“And which room? Do you remember? »
She hesitated for a moment. “It was on a high floor. I don’t remember the exact number.
“What days of the week did you generally get together? Tuesdays? Thursdays sometimes? When he said he was going to work late? »
I kept asking inquiries that were more and more precise. “What did Adam usually order from room service?” What side of the bed did he like best? Did he take a shower before or after? « Information that only someone who has been close to Adam would know.
Cassandra got more and more upset, and her replies were less clear or even inconsistent. “Why does any of this matter?” “She eventually lost it. “The point is that Lucas is Adam’s son, and the will shows that Adam wanted to take care of him.”
“Actually,” I responded calmly as I opened my folder, “both of those claims are clearly false.”
I put the medical records on the table in front of us. Adam had a vasectomy two years before Lucas was born, after having surgery for a varicocele. Follow-up tests showed that it was a total success. After the treatment, it was physically impossible for him to have a child.
Cassandra’s face lost all its color. She picked up the medical paperwork with shaking hands and looked over the clinical terminology and dates. “These could be fake,” she replied in a shaky voice.
“No, they aren’t,” I said. “And Adam’s doctor is ready to testify that they are real if needed. But that’s only the start.
Next, I made the real will, had it notarized, and filed it with the court. “This is Adam’s real will, written by James Wilson and signed by two partners at his firm.” You can see that it leaves everything to me and doesn’t say anything about Lucas.
You could see that Cassandra’s confidence was fading, but she tried to pull herself together. “He must have altered it after this was written. My will is more current.
I responded calmly, “The will you have is a fake.” And a bad one, I might add. James has already found a number of legal problems with the phrasing, and the signature is obviously fraudulent. In Massachusetts, making a fake will is a crime that can land you in prison for up to five years.
I kept on in a methodical way, showing proof: Adam’s journal entries about her inappropriate approaches, the text messages between her and Jenna about the plan, and lastly, Frank’s investigative report that detailed her money problems, eviction notice, and Tyler’s leaving.
“We know everything, Cassandra,” I added, and she sat there in shock. “What happens next is the question.”
For a long time, she didn’t say anything. Then, to my amazement, she started to cry. Not the fake cries I had seen her use to get what she wanted from our parents, but real, deep sobs that shook her body.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she finally answered between breaths. “I’m going to be homeless.” In two weeks, Lucas and I will be on the street. Tyler didn’t leave us anything. The expenditures for medical care just keep coming. I believed that if I could only collect some cash from the house…
“So, you choose to ruin Adam’s good name? I inquired, my voice getting harder. “To tell everyone he cheated on me? To make fake legal papers? »
“I was in a lot of trouble!” She yelled, “I’m sad!” and then she got angry. “You have it all! This enormous mansion, a business that works, and the respect of everyone! What do I have? A baby with a heart problem, a $75,000 debt, and an eviction notice. You try making wise choices in that situation! »
Her outburst was still in the air between us.
It hit me in a way that was real and honest, without any lies or deception. Not forgiveness, not yet, but maybe understanding.
“Lucas is Tyler’s son, right?” I asked more softly.
She nodded and wiped her eyes. “Yes.” Adam never put his hands on me. Not that way. I did try with him a long time ago. He always shut me down right away. He was annoyingly loyal to you.
“And the will? »
“My friend Dave helped me make it.” He works graphic design and felt it would be easy to make a false signature. I was intending to use it to make you give me money. I never expected you would really look into it that deeply.
I stopped the recording and sat back to think about what to do next. Cassandra looked at me nervously, as if she thought the worst might happen.
“I could file charges,” I finally responded. “What you did was against the law, and it was also cruel and planned.”
She nodded sadly. “I understand.”
“But that would hurt Lucas,” I said again. “And no matter what, he is my nephew. I care for him.
I leaned in so she could see me well. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to tell everyone the truth: that you lied about the affair, that Lucas is not Adam’s son, and that you made the will up. You will apologize to both me and Adam’s memory in front of everyone.
“And then what? “She asked, her voice low. “We will still be kicked out.”
I told them, “I’m not done.” “I’ll help you and Lucas if you confess everything and sign a legal agreement saying you’ll never do anything like this again.” Not by giving you half of my house, but by putting money in a trust for Lucas’s medical and educational needs. And helping you discover a place to live that is safe.
Her eyes got bigger. “Why would you do that after what I did?” »
I responded honestly, “Not for you.” “For Lucas. And Adam would want me to aid his nephew, even if that nephew’s mother tried to ruin his reputation.
“I will continue,” I said. “You will go to therapy and get help with your money. You will keep your job. And you will let me be a part of Lucas’s life to make sure he is getting the right care. The support will end right away if you break any of these rules.
Cassandra was quiet for a long time, taking it all in. “I don’t deserve your help,” she finally said.
“No,” I said, “you don’t. But Lucas needs a place to live and medical treatment. And I should be able to remember my husband without any bad memories. This answer provides us both what we want.
Cassandra agreed to my requirements when we talked more about the facts. We would meet with James the next day to make the deal official, and she would tell everyone about it at a family dinner the next weekend.
When I showed her out, she stopped at the door. “I’m so sorry, Bridget. I have always been jealous of you. It always seemed like everything came so easy to you.
I said, “Nothing in my life has been easy.” “You just never bothered to look deeper.” It’s possible that you should start now.
From the start, the family meal I planned on Saturday night was strained. My folks got there early, and my mom brought her famous lasagna as a peace offering.
She put the plate on my counter and remarked, “I don’t know what this is about.” “But Cassandra has been crying and calling us, saying you are making her come to some kind of family meeting.”
“Just wait until everyone gets here,” I said as I poured her a drink of wine. “This needs to be talked about once, with everyone there.”
By 7:00, my parents, Cassandra (who didn’t have Lucas with her because he was with a babysitter), and I were all sitting around my dining room table. James had told me to record this chat too, and there was a little recorder in the middle of the table.
I started by saying, “Thank you all for coming,” after explaining the recording. “I requested Cassandra to tell you some crucial things. Cassandra? »
My sister looked sick and pale, and she didn’t seem to have her normal confidence. She looked down at her plate while she talked. “I lied when I said Lucas was Adam’s son,” she stated in a voice that was barely above a whisper. “Adam and I never had an affair.” I made up the will I exhibited at the birthday party, and Lucas is Tyler’s son.
My folks were shocked and stared at her. “But why would you do that?” “Why?” my father asked. “Do you know what that claim caused to your sister? To Adam’s good name? »
Cassandra talked about how bad her finances were getting, and her voice got stronger as she talked about her growing bills, Tyler’s leaving, and the eviction notice. I could watch my mother’s face change from shock to sympathy as she spoke.
“Oh, honey,” she remarked when Cassandra was done. “Why didn’t you just ask us for help?” You didn’t have to tell such awful lies.
“Would you have given me $400,000?” Cassandra asked directly. “That’s what I would have gotten if my plan had worked. The value of Bridget’s house is half of that.
My dad said, “Of course we couldn’t give you that much money.” “But we could have contributed with the rent, even if it was just for a little while. Instead, you tried to cheat your own sister out of money while she was mourning her husband.
Cassandra said, “I know it was wrong.” “Bridget has made that very plain already. She has the proof she needs to file charges against me if she wants to.
My mother looked at me with fear. “Bridget, you wouldn’t do that to your own sister, would you?” »
Even now, I felt a flash of anger at how quickly she defended Cassandra. “I could,” I responded confidently. She did something that was not only wrong but also against the law. Fraud and forgery are both crimes.
“But she’s family,” my mother said over and over. “And she has Lucas to worry about.”
“I am family too,” I said, my voice raising a little. “Your daughter, too.” The woman had recently lost her spouse and then had to fight off bogus claims that he was cheating on her. What were you worried about me in all of this? »
My dad looked uneasy and moved about in his chair. “Of course we care about you, Bridget.” But Cassandra has always required extra aid. More help.
“And whose fault is that?” I asked. “You’ve been bailing her out of her bad choices her whole life.” If you had allowed her face repercussions from time to time, she might not have turned to crime.
My mom gasped. “That isn’t fair at all, Bridget. We have always treated all of you gals the same.
Cassandra, surprisingly, shook her head. “No, Mom, you haven’t.” Bridget is correct. You constantly made excuses for me and found methods to remedy what I did wrong. It didn’t help me. It just made me think that I could do anything I wanted and not have to worry about the consequences.
My parents were shocked when I said this. Cassandra was taking responsibility for the first time instead of blaming others.
“So what now?” My father asked, gazing back and forth between us. “Is Cassandra going to prison?” »
“No,” I answered. “I’ve decided not to press charges under certain conditions.” I told Cassandra and James about the deal we had made: the trust fund for Lucas, the treatment and financial counseling requirements, and the stipulation that she have stable job.
My dad remarked, “That is very kind,” and he looked happy. “Especially after what she did.”
Cassandra replied quietly, “It’s more than fair.” “It’s more than I deserve.”
“Well,” my mom continued, getting happier, “this is all for the best.” Bridget is helping Lucas, and Cassandra has said she’s sorry. We can move on from this terrible business.
“It’s not that easy, Mom,” I responded firmly. “Trust has been broken here. It will take time for the mending to happen, if it does at all. And there ought to be limits from now on.”
“What kind of limits?” “She asked, looking apprehensive.
“For one thing, I need both of you to stop letting Cassandra act this way. No more excuses, no more bailouts. She has to be able to stand on her own, with the right kind of help that doesn’t keep her dependent.
My dad slowly nodded. “That sounds fair.”
“And I need you to understand that my connection with Cassandra will be different now. I care about Lucas and want the best for him, therefore I’m involved in his life. But Cassandra and I won’t be as close as we used to be, at least not for a long time.
My mom looked upset. “But we are family.” We need to stay united, especially now.
“Being family doesn’t mean putting up with abuse, Mom,” I murmured softly. “What Cassandra did was abusive.” She tried to take advantage of my grief and use it to control me when I was at my weakest. That has effects, even in a family.
The rest of dinner was quiet as my parents tried to come to terms with this new reality. My father held me warmly and said, “I’m proud of you, Bridget,” when they departed. Adam would also be.
My mom hugged me too, but her eyes were already sad because she was missing the perfect family life she had always imagined we had.
The last person to go was Cassandra. She stopped at the door. “I’m really sorry,” she repeated again. “Not just for the will and the lies, but for everything.” For all the years of jealousy and competitiveness. Because you weren’t the sister you deserved.
“I know,” I said. “And I hope the therapy helps you figure out why you did what you did.” Lucas needs a mother who is honest and emotionally stable.
“Do you think you will ever forgive me?” »
I thought about the question thoroughly. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But I’m open to seeing where this new route leads us. For Lucas’s sake. And maybe, one day, for us too.
There was no talking on the way home with my parents; we were all engrossed in our own thoughts. There was one thing I was sure of: our family will never be the same. But maybe, over time, it could become something better, based on truth instead of lies.
A year after Adam died, I stood in our yard and watched the spring bulbs come up through the ground. The daffodils that Adam had planted the fall before were flowering, making the lawn look like a riot of yellow against the new green. It hurt to see them because I knew he had planted them with the hope that they would bloom.
That year brought about so many changes. The trust fund for Lucas was set up and was already helping with his ongoing medical needs. His cardiac problem needed to be watched, but it was getting better with therapy, and he was becoming a happy, interested toddler.
Everyone was shocked when Cassandra really accepted the terms of our arrangement. After six months of treatment, she was able to see patterns of behavior that had been with her since she was a youngster, such always needing to compete with me and making decisions that hurt her.
She worked as an office manager at a dental clinic, which gave her a solid job with benefits. We stayed on good terms, but our relationship was still official. I saw Lucas a lot. I took him to the park or the children’s museum on outings. Cassandra and I didn’t act like we were close, but we had figured out how to live together quietly for Lucas’s sake.
At first, my parents had a hard time with the new rules I had set. My mother, in particular, had a hard time accepting that her daughters would not have the close relationship she had always imagined. But as time went on,
They had also changed, knowing how to help Cassandra without making her dependent on them.
The grieving support group I joined not long after Adam died became a lifeline for me. Twelve people who had lost someone had become friends, and they understood each other in ways that even well-meaning family and friends couldn’t. We got together every week to talk about our sadness, celebrate minor wins, and help each other through the hard times that were sure to come.
Three months after I fought with Cassandra, I started the Adam Preston Foundation for Legal Education. It gives scholarships to kids from low-income families who want to study corporate law. It made me feel good to see Adam’s memory go on in the work of young, idealistic lawyers who might not have had the chance to become lawyers otherwise.
I never would have thought that old acquaintances would help me in ways they did. Adam’s legal partners checked in on me often, inviting me to meals and gatherings to make sure I wasn’t alone in my grief. Sarah, my college roommate, flew in from Chicago once a month simply to spend the weekend with me. Sometimes we just watched movies and ordered takeout.
And then there was Michael. Six months after Adam died, I met him at a benefit for the foundation. He was a professor of ethics at Boston University. He was nice and thoughtful, and he had a subtle sense of humor that made me think of Adam.
At first, we were just buddies who shared coffee after foundation meetings. Then we started going out to dine together more often. It was different from what I had with Adam, which is how it should be. Michael knew that Adam would always be a part of my life and that loving someone else didn’t entail getting rid of what I had before. We were taking our time, being careful yet hopeful.
That spring morning, as I stood in the garden, I thought about all the things Adam had taught me, both when we were together and after he was gone. When I was at my most vulnerable, he had shielded me by getting those papers ready. His journal entries confirmed what I had been through with Cassandra while my parents tried to brush them off. His love still protected me even if he wasn’t there.
I learned some hard lessons from this: that family relationships need clear boundaries to stay healthy; that writing things down is not just a legal precaution but sometimes an emotional necessity; that forgiveness does not have to mean forgetting or letting harmful patterns continue; and that sometimes the people we think will protect us are the ones we need to protect ourselves from. But I also learnt how strong I am.
I had to deal with Cassandra’s betrayal, figure out the complicated legal issues, and make tough choices about what to do next, all while dealing with the terrible loss of my husband. I had found a way to remember Adam and start a new life for myself at the same time.
After a long winter, the daffodils were strong and waved in the spring breeze. I thought about how grief is like that. Not a straight line, but a series of seasons, each with its own problems and surprises.
I was not the same person after Adam died and Cassandra betrayed me. I was stronger in some areas and more careful in others, but in the end, I was more honest about how I dealt with relationships and limits.
I remarked softly to the garden Adam had loved, “Sometimes the most painful betrayals make us find strength we didn’t know we had.” “You couldn’t have anticipated what would happen after you left, yet somehow you got me ready for it. And in that way, your love still keeps me safe.
I felt a sense of tranquility that I hadn’t felt in a long time as I turned to go back inside. Not because the sadness was gone—it would never be totally gone—but because I had discovered a way to carry it with me along with hope for the future. Adam gave me that gift by showing me that love lasts even after the individual is gone and that being honest and preparing are ways of showing deep care.
If you are dealing with treachery in your family, the best advice I can give you is to protect yourself with both paperwork and limits. People who really love you will respect those limits, and people who don’t were never safe for you to be around in the first place.
