Richard’s smile was cold. «That’s where Miguel comes in. Turns out he’s been bragging to his friends about his rich American girlfriend, posting photos of the expensive gifts she’s been buying him and the luxury hotels they’ve been staying at. When the money dried up yesterday, so did his enthusiasm for their relationship.»
«He left her?»
«Took the first flight back to Chicago this morning. Olivia is alone in a foreign country with no money, no friends, and a growing list of legal problems,» Richard leaned back in his chair. «I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.»
I didn’t feel sorry for her at all. Every time I remembered standing over that empty grave, throwing dirt onto a coffin that contained nothing but weighted pillows, my sympathy evaporated. «When does she get back?»
«Her flight lands tomorrow evening. She managed to contact her sister, who wired her enough money for a plane ticket. But she’s coming back to a very different world than the one she left. Are you ready for this?»
Richard nodded slowly. «I’ve been ready since I saw those Instagram posts of her laughing on the beach while you buried an empty coffin,» his voice hardened. «She humiliated you, Dad. She made you grieve alone while she celebrated with her lover using money she stole from our family. That’s not something I can forgive.»
«And you’re sure this will work?»
«The insurance fraud case is airtight. She’ll either take a plea deal or go to trial. But either way, she’s looking at serious prison time. The money she stole will have to be returned, plus penalties and interest. Her reputation is destroyed. And she’ll be lucky if she doesn’t end up owing more than she’s worth after legal fees.»
Richard paused, looking out the diner window at the ordinary suburban street outside. «But the legal consequences are just the beginning, Dad. The real justice comes when she realizes that everyone knows what she did. Her friends, her family, our neighbors—they’re all going to learn that she’s not a tragic widow who lost her husband too young. She’s a con artist who tried to cash in on her husband’s death while betraying him with another man.»
«She’ll try to contact me when she gets back.»
«Let her. But remember, as far as you know, I’m still dead. You’re just a grieving father who’s slowly learning that his daughter-in-law isn’t who he thought she was,» Richard reached across the table and squeezed my hand. «I’m sorry you have to keep pretending to grieve for me, Dad. I know how hard this has been on you.»
I squeezed back. «Having you alive and safe is worth any amount of pretending. This will all be over soon. Once Olivia is arrested and charged, once the truth comes out publicly, I can start the process of legally returning from the dead. It’ll be complicated, but Dr. Peterson has connections who can help smooth things over with the authorities.»
«And then what? You can’t go back to your old life.»
«No, I can’t. Richard Morrison will have to stay dead, at least officially. But Timothy Morrison’s son can start fresh somewhere new, with a new identity and a chance to build something better,» Richard’s expression softened. «Maybe even with his father, if that father wants to leave this place behind and start over too.»
I thought about my empty house, my quiet retirement, and the loneliness that had been my constant companion since Richard’s supposed death. The idea of starting fresh, of having my son back in my life, was more appealing than I cared to admit.
«We’ll see,» I said. «First, let’s make sure Olivia gets exactly what she deserves.»
Richard smiled, and for the first time in weeks, it was a real smile, not the calculating expression he’d worn while planning his revenge. «Oh, she will, Dad. She definitely will. Tomorrow night, when she walks into that house expecting to resume her life as a grieving widow, she’s going to discover that some lies have consequences she never imagined.»
Olivia’s plane landed at 8:30 on a cold Friday evening. I knew because I’d been tracking her flight obsessively, the same way I’d been monitoring everything about her for the past two weeks. Richard and I had spent the afternoon making final preparations for what he called «the confrontation.»
I was sitting in my living room pretending to watch television when my phone rang at 9:45. Olivia’s number flashed on the screen. I let it ring four times before answering, just long enough to sound like a man who’d been lost in his grief.
«Timothy?» Her voice was strained, exhausted. «Thank God you answered. I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to call. There were problems with the phone service in Mexico, and then my flight was delayed… everything has been just awful.»
«Olivia?» I kept my voice carefully neutral. «I was wondering when you’d get back.»
«I’m at the house now, but something’s wrong with the locks. My key isn’t working, and there’s some kind of notice on the door. I can’t read it properly in the dark,» her voice cracked slightly. «Could you come over? I know it’s late, but I’m scared to be alone right now.»
I glanced at the clock—right on schedule. The locksmith Richard had hired had changed the locks that afternoon, and the notice on the door was from the FBI, informing Olivia that the house was part of an ongoing fraud investigation.
«I’ll be there in twenty minutes,» I said.
«Thank you, Timothy. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re the only family I have left now that Richard is…» She broke off, making a sound that might have been a sob but sounded more like exhaustion.
The drive to Richard’s house felt surreal. I’d made this trip hundreds of times over the years for family dinners, holidays, helping with home repairs, and babysitting their dog when they traveled. But tonight felt different. Tonight, I was driving toward a reckoning that had been building for weeks.
Olivia was standing on the front porch when I arrived, looking nothing like the radiant woman from the Cancun photos. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, her skin pale and drawn. She wore wrinkled clothes that looked like she’d slept in them, and her eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion or tears—I couldn’t tell which.
«Timothy, thank you for coming.» She rushed toward me, attempting to embrace me, but I stepped back slightly. The movement was subtle, but she noticed. Her expression flickered with confusion.
«Let me see this notice,» I said, walking past her to the front door.
The FBI document was official and intimidating, full of legal language about asset freezing and ongoing investigations. I read it slowly, watching Olivia from the corner of my eye. She was pacing behind me, wrapping her arms around herself.
«I don’t understand any of this,» she said. «Why would the FBI be involved with Richard’s death? It was a heart attack, natural causes.»
I turned to face her fully for the first time. In the porch light, she looked even worse than I’d initially thought. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her hands were shaking slightly. «Olivia, where exactly have you been for the past two weeks?»
«I told you I was in Phoenix with my sister, dealing with the grief, trying to process everything,» the lie came out smoothly, practiced. «And then I took a few days in Mexico. The doctor said travel might help with the depression.»
«Mexico,» I repeated the word flatly. «Just for a few days.»
«Sarah thought a change of scenery might help me cope with losing Richard,» her voice grew stronger, more confident as she settled into her story. «I know it might seem insensitive, but I was falling apart, Timothy. I needed to get away from all the memories here.»
I nodded slowly as if accepting her explanation. «I can understand that. Grief affects people differently.»
Relief washed over her face. «Exactly. Thank you for understanding. I knew you would,» she gestured toward the house. «But I still don’t understand why the FBI would be involved or why my locks don’t work. Maybe we should call someone, get some answers.»
I pulled out my phone. «I have the number for Richard’s lawyer. He might know what’s going on.»
«Yes, please call him. This has to be some kind of mistake.»
I dialed the number Richard had given me. His lawyer, David Chen, had been briefed on our plan and was expecting the call. He answered on the second ring. «David, this is Timothy Morrison. I’m here at Richard’s house with Olivia, and there’s an FBI notice on the door about some kind of investigation.»
I paused, letting him speak. «Uh-huh. I see. When did this happen?»
Olivia moved closer, trying to hear the other side of the conversation. I turned slightly away from her. «Insurance fraud?» I said, loud enough for her to hear clearly.
The color drained from Olivia’s face. She grabbed my arm. «What’s he saying? What do you mean insurance fraud?»
I held up a finger, continuing to listen to David’s feigned explanation. «Multiple policies. Unauthorized applications,» I looked directly at Olivia. «David, Olivia is right here. She says she doesn’t know anything about this.»
«Timothy, what is he talking about?» Olivia’s voice was rising, panic creeping in.
«He says the FBI has evidence that someone forged Richard’s signature on several life insurance applications. Large policies that Richard supposedly took out without telling anyone,» I watched her face carefully. «They think it might be connected to his death.»
«That’s impossible. Richard died of a heart attack. The doctors confirmed it.»
I continued talking to David. «Financial irregularities? What kind of irregularities?» Another pause. «Account transfers to unauthorized recipients. Suspicious spending patterns.»
Olivia’s hands were shaking visibly now. «Timothy, tell him this is all a mistake. I don’t know anything about insurance policies or financial irregularities.»
«David wants to know if you can account for your whereabouts over the past two weeks,» I said to her. «The FBI apparently has questions about some large cash transactions that happened right after Richard’s death.»
«I was grieving. I was with my sister,» but her voice lacked conviction now.
«He says they also have questions about social media posts. Photos posted from… where did he say? Cancun?» I let the word hang in the air between us.
Olivia’s face went completely white. She took a step backward. «How do they know about Cancun?» The admission slipped out before she could stop it.
I ended the fake call with David and put my phone away. «So you were in Cancun, not Phoenix with your sister.»
«I… I can explain that. After Phoenix, I needed more time to heal. Sarah suggested Mexico might be therapeutic.» But she was floundering now, her story falling apart.
«By ‘therapeutic,'» I repeated the word the same way I’d said ‘Mexico’ earlier, «was Miguel therapeutic too?»
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. «How do you know about Miguel?»
«The FBI showed me photos, Olivia. Photos of you in Cancun with another man. Photos posted on social media while I was standing over my son’s grave, throwing dirt on his coffin,» my voice was getting harder, colder. «Photos of you celebrating with your lover using money from Richard’s life insurance.»
