“You and Nicholas were good parents, Ellie,” she said softly. “Some people just turn out rotten, no matter the soil they’re planted in.”
I accepted her answer with a nod, pushing away the useless question. It didn’t matter anymore. The past was buried with Nicholas. Only the future—and my revenge—remained.
Morning brought Robert Wilson, impeccably dressed in a suit that probably cost more than three months of Canton Orchard profits, striding into Vincent’s office with two associates trailing behind him.
“Naomi.” He embraced me briefly, then immediately turned to business. “We’ve filed injunctions against Platinum Acres in three counties already. Now we add yours to the list.”
For the next two hours, I watched a master at work. Robert didn’t just understand law; he wielded it like a scalpel—precise and devastating. By noon, he had drafted documents that would not only block the sale, but potentially trigger a state investigation into the developer.
“Your children’s signatures,” he said, sliding papers across Vincent’s desk. “We need them to officially renounce their claims based on the fraudulent will. Vincent says they’re refusing.”
“They’ll sign,” I said with certainty. “They just need the proper motivation.”
I pulled out my phone and made another call—this one to Thomas Winters, Harold’s son and the assistant district attorney for the county.
“Thomas, it’s Naomi Canton. I’d like to discuss pressing criminal charges.”
Robert raised an eyebrow but said nothing as I arranged a meeting for later that afternoon. When I hung up, he nodded approvingly.
“You always were tougher than Nicholas gave you credit for.”
“Nicholas knew exactly how tough I was,” I corrected. “He just never thought I’d need to use it against our own children.”
Just after 2:00 p.m., my phone rang again. Brandon. His voice was clipped and formal.
“We’ll sign the papers,” he said, “but we want something in writing saying you won’t pursue charges.”
“I already offered that yesterday,” I said. “The terms have changed.”
“What do you want?” He sounded defeated, which gave me no pleasure.
“Be at Vincent’s office at 4:00 p.m. Bring Melissa. I’ll lay out my terms then.”
When they arrived, I was already seated between Robert and Vincent—a united front of legal firepower. My children looked terrible. Brandon unshaven, his expensive shirt wrinkled. Melissa with smeared makeup and hair pulled back in a hasty ponytail. Neither could meet my eyes.
“Sit,” I said, gesturing to the chairs across from us. “This won’t take long.”
Robert slid the documents across the table.
“Mrs. Canton has agreed not to pursue criminal charges for the forged will, fraud, elder abuse, and attempted theft of business assets worth approximately twelve million dollars,” he said. “In exchange, you will both sign these papers acknowledging the will was fraudulent, renouncing all claims to Canton Family Orchards, the residential property, and all associated assets.”
Brandon skimmed the document, his face paling.
“This says we forfeit our inheritance entirely.”
“Yes,” I said simply.
“But that’s—” Melissa began.
“Exactly what you tried to do to me,” I finished for her. “With one difference. I’m offering you a legal way out, not abandonment on a roadside.”
