Chapter 2 - The Locked StudyCalvin looked down at his phone but didn’t answer.
Tabitha’s voice floated across my father’s white rose garden before I even turned around.
I kept my pruning shears around a dead branch and made one clean cut.
Snip.
The branch fell into the soil.
My father had taught me never to tear a rose stem.
“A clean cut lets the plant heal,” he used to say. “People could learn something from roses.”
He’d been gone twelve days.
I still expected to hear his boots on the stone path every morning.
Instead, I got my ex-husband’s new wife.
Tabitha Monroe stood between the rose beds in cream-colored heels that had already sunk into the damp earth. Her blonde hair was curled perfectly. A white designer purse hung from her elbow, and oversized sunglasses rested on top of her head like a crown.
She looked painfully out of place in the garden my father had tended for forty years.
Behind her stood Calvin.
My ex-husband.
He remained closer to the driveway, hands in the pockets of his navy blazer, pretending he wasn’t enjoying this.
That was always Calvin’s favorite kind of cruelty.
The kind he could blame on someone else.
“Good morning, Tabitha,” I said.
Her smile sharpened.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
I clipped another dead bloom.
“And those shoes aren’t made for wet soil.”
Calvin sighed.
“Claire, don’t make this difficult.”
That finally made me look at him.
Fifteen years of marriage.
Two years of divorce proceedings.
And somehow he still believed I existed to make his life easy.
“What exactly am I making difficult?”
“The transition.”
Tabitha laughed.
“There won’t be much of one. Calvin and I have already spoken with a contractor. We’re opening up the kitchen, replacing the downstairs floors, and honestly, these gardens are going to need to be simplified.”
My fingers tightened around the shears.
She pointed toward my father’s roses.
“I’m thinking pool.”
Calvin gave her a warning glance.
Not because she had insulted my father.
Because she was saying too much.
I slowly stood.
The house behind us had belonged to my family long before Calvin ever walked through its front door.
My father, Arthur Bennett, had bought the old Charleston property when he was twenty-eight. He restored it room by room while building Bennett Architectural Group from a two-man office into one of the most respected firms in South Carolina.
After my mother died, the house became his anchor.
After Calvin left me for Tabitha, it became mine too.
Dad had insisted I move back.
“You’re not retreating,” he’d told me. “You’re coming home.”
Now he was dead.
And apparently Calvin believed death had opened a door he’d been waiting years to walk through.
Tabitha folded her arms.
“Arthur adored Calvin.”
I almost laughed.
Dad tolerated Calvin during our marriage because he loved me.
After the affair came out, he refused to speak Calvin’s name unless absolutely necessary.
But I said nothing.
Tabitha continued.
“Calvin helped Arthur with business matters near the end. Arthur told him repeatedly that family should benefit from everything he built.”
Calvin’s expression flickered.
There.
The first crack.
Tabitha hadn’t noticed it.
I had.
“What exactly did my father tell you about his will?” I asked.
She looked delighted that I had finally taken the bait.
“That Calvin receives controlling interest in Bennett Architectural Group, the Charleston house, and several investment properties.”
I glanced toward Calvin.
He was staring at her now.
“Tabitha,” he said quietly.
She ignored him.
“Tomorrow’s reading is basically a formality. His attorney already contacted Calvin weeks ago about certain estate matters.”
That part was possible.
Calvin had once served as chief financial officer of my father’s company.
Until their relationship deteriorated after our divorce.
But Tabitha was enjoying herself too much to stop.
“So,” she said, gesturing toward the house, “I thought I’d give you the courtesy of getting a head start. Maybe pack your personal things tonight.”
I studied her for several seconds.
Then I asked one question.
“Did Calvin tell you my father changed his will six weeks ago?”
Silence.
Even the garden seemed to still.
Tabitha’s smile vanished.
Slowly, she turned toward Calvin.
“What?”
Calvin’s face had gone pale.
I felt something cold settle into place inside me.
Interesting.
I hadn’t known Dad had changed his will six weeks ago.
I had guessed.
My father had spent his final month meeting privately with his attorney, Margaret Shaw. He’d refused to discuss details with me.
But Calvin’s expression just confirmed that something had happened.
Tabitha stared at him.
“Calvin?”
He walked toward us.
“Claire is trying to upset you.”
“Then why do you look like that?”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
I slipped the pruning shears into the pocket of my gardening apron.
“You should probably talk privately.”
Tabitha ignored me.
“You told me the will was settled.”
“It is.”
“You told me Arthur signed everything months ago.”
“He did.”
“Then what did she mean?”
Calvin looked at me.
The hatred in his eyes was immediate.
And revealing.
“Claire,” he said, “you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe not.”
I brushed dirt from my gloves.
“But Margaret called me yesterday.”
His jaw tightened.
“She told me to be at her office tomorrow at ten. She also told me not to sign, move, transfer, destroy, or remove anything belonging to my father.”
Calvin stopped breathing for half a second.
Tabitha noticed.
So did I.
“What have you removed?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
Too fast.
Behind him, a car rolled slowly past the front gates.
Calvin glanced toward it instinctively.
Then back at me.
Another crack.
I began walking toward the house.
Tabitha stepped in front of me.
“You can’t just walk away.”
“This is my father’s garden.”
“For one more day.”
I stopped so close to her that her perfume overwhelmed the scent of the roses.
“No, Tabitha.”
My voice was quiet.
“That’s the mistake you’re making.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What mistake?”
“You think tomorrow is about finding out what my father gave you.”
I glanced at Calvin.
He had lost all color now.
“But I’m starting to think tomorrow is about finding out what he caught you taking.”
For the first time since she arrived, Tabitha had nothing to say.
Then my phone rang.
Margaret Shaw.
I answered.
“Claire?”
Her voice was tight.
“Are you alone?”
I looked directly at Calvin.
“No.”
“Get somewhere private.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
There was a pause.
Then my father’s attorney said the words that changed everything.
May you like
“Because someone tried to access Arthur’s sealed estate file last night.”
And across the garden, Calvin’s phone began ringing too.
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