Meaning, why would you want to kill Blake? He’s your son and your only heir. His death would actually complicate your estate planning significantly. I thought about the life insurance policy I suspected might exist, but decided to keep that information to myself for now.
What about Schuyler? They could argue I wanted to eliminate her to protect Blake’s inheritance. Possibly, but that’s a weak motive for murder. Wealthy families deal with gold-digging spouses through prenups and trusts, not poison.
Marcus opened his briefcase and pulled out a legal pad. Tell me about the evidence they found in your house. The vial and the handwritten list.
I described the items in detail, emphasizing how the handwriting looked like mine, but that I had no memory of creating the list. Marcus made careful notes, occasionally asking clarifying questions about the timeline and Blake’s access to my home. The planted evidence is actually our strongest defense, Marcus said.
It’s almost too convenient. Real poisoners don’t usually leave behind-sign confessions with their victim’s name and dosage calculations. What’s our next step? We need to investigate Blake and Schuyler independently.
If they’re running a con, there will be evidence. Financial records, communication patterns, possibly even previous victims. Previous victims? Marcus leaned back in his chair, studying me carefully.
If your son is willing to murder his own mother for inheritance money, this probably isn’t his first rodeo. People don’t usually jump straight to matricide without working their way up through smaller crimes. The thought sent ice through my veins.
You think they’ve done this before? I think we need to find out. Harrison is already running background checks on both of them. If there are any red flags in their past, we’ll find them.
That night, I barely slept. Every sound in the house made me jump. Every shadow seemed threatening.
I’d installed a state-of-the-art security system years ago, but knowing that my son had keys and access codes made it feel useless. Around 3 a.m., I heard a car in my driveway. From my bedroom window, I could see Blake’s BMW parked near the front door.
I watched as he sat in the driver’s seat for several minutes, making phone calls and appearing agitated. Finally, he got out and approached the house. Instead of using his key, he knocked softly on the front door.
When I didn’t answer, he tried the handle and found it locked. He walked around the perimeter of the house, testing windows and checking for other entry points. This wasn’t the behavior of a concerned son checking on his mother.
This was reconnaissance. After twenty minutes, Blake gave up and drove away. I immediately called Marcus Webb.
He was casing the house. I told Marcus. Looking for ways to get inside without using his key.
Did you record any of this? The security cameras should have captured everything. Perfect. Don’t touch those recordings.
We’ll need them if this goes to trial. The next morning brought more bad news. Detective Morrison called to inform me that the preliminary forensics results had confirmed my fingerprints on the poison vial and that the handwriting analysis was consistent with my writing samples.
Mrs. Prince, well, Detective Morrison said, I need you to come to the station for additional questioning. You have the right to have your attorney present. We’ll be there this afternoon.
I told him then immediately called Marcus. They’re moving faster than I expected, Marcus said. This feels like they’re building toward an arrest.
We need to accelerate our investigation. That afternoon, as Marcus and I sat in the police station waiting room, I felt the walls closing in around me. The evidence against me was circumstantial, but compelling.
I had motive protecting family wealth means access to poison and opportunity preparing the coffee. The planted evidence provided the smoking gun that would convince a jury of my guilt. Mrs. Prince, well, Detective Morrison said when we were finally called into the interview room, we’ve received additional forensic results that I think you should be aware of.
Marcus leaned forward slightly. What kind of results? The poison found in Mrs. Morrison’s bloodstream is an exact match for the substance in the vial recovered from Mrs. Prince wills home. We also found traces of the same substance on a coffee mug in Mrs. Prince wills kitchen.
My heart sank. They’d found physical evidence linking me directly to the crime. Even if I could prove the evidence was planted, it would be difficult to convince a jury that someone had gone to such elaborate lengths to frame me.
Detective Morrison, Marcus said smoothly. My client maintains her innocence. This evidence is clearly the result of contamination or tampering by whom by the real perpetrator who had access to Mrs. Prince wills home while she was at the hospital.
Detective Morrison looked skeptical. You’re suggesting that someone else poisoned Mrs. Morrison then broke into Mrs. Prince wills house to plant evidence. I’m suggesting that the timeline and circumstances don’t support the conclusion that my client is guilty of this crime.
But I could see in Detective Morrison’s eyes that he’d already made up his mind to him. I was a wealthy old woman who tried to murder her daughter-in-law and was now desperately trying to blame her innocent son, Mrs. Prince will. Detective Morrison said, based on the evidence we’ve gathered, I’m placing you under arrest for attempted murder.
As the handcuffs clicked around my wrists, I looked at Marcus and saw my own fears reflected in his eyes. Blake and Skylar had played this perfectly, and I was about to pay the price for underestimating my own family. But as they led me toward the patrol car, one thought kept me from despair.
They’d made one crucial mistake. They’d left me alive. And as long as I was breathing, I wasn’t finished fighting.
The county jail was everything I’d expected and worse. Gray concrete walls, fluorescent lighting that made everyone look dead, and the constant sound of metal doors slamming shut. I’d sent enough criminals to places like this during my career, but experiencing it firsthand was profoundly different.
My cellmate was a woman named Maria Santos, arrested for check fraud and surprisingly philosophical about the experience. First time? She asked as I tried to make myself comfortable on the narrow bunk. Unfortunately, yes.
What did you do? They think I tried to poison my daughter-in-law. Maria whistled low. Family drama.
That’s always the messiest kind of crime. I didn’t do it. Honey, everybody in here didn’t do it.
But the real question is, can you prove you didn’t do it? That was exactly the question keeping me awake at night. Marcus had warned me that proving innocence was much harder than establishing reasonable doubt, especially when the evidence was as seemingly solid as what they’d assembled against me. The bail hearing was set for Monday morning, three days away.
Marcus was confident he could get me released, but the prosecution was arguing that I was a flight risk due to my substantial wealth and that I posed a danger to potential witnesses. The district attorney is treating this like a high-profile case, Marcus explained during one of his visits. They think convicting a wealthy oil heiress will be good publicity.
What about our investigation into Blake and Schuyler? Harrison is making progress, but it’s slow going. We’ve confirmed that Blake has significant gambling debts, over $300,000 to some very unsavory people. That gives him clear motive for needing money quickly.
$300,000? The number staggered me. How did he accumulate that kind of debt? High stakes poker games, sports betting, some kind of cryptocurrency speculation that went wrong. The point is, he was desperate enough to do something drastic.
What about Schuyler? Marcus’s expression darkened. That’s where it gets interesting. Schuyler Morrison doesn’t exist.
I felt my pulse quicken. Huh? What do you mean? The identity is fake. Created about four years ago with forged documents and a fabricated background, Harrison traced her real identity to a woman named Victoria Sterling who has a criminal record in three states.
What kind of record? Identity theft, fraud, and get this, suspected involvement in a suspicious death of an elderly man in Arizona. The case was never prosecuted due to lack of evidence, but the pattern is clear. Suddenly, everything made sense.
Blake hadn’t just married a beautiful woman. He’d married a professional criminal who specialized in exactly the kind of scheme they’d tried to pull on me. So this was planned from the beginning.
It looks that way. Victoria probably targeted Blake because of his family wealth, then manipulated him into helping her gain access to you. But why try to kill me? Why not just wait for me to die naturally and inherit everything? Marcus pulled out a folder from his briefcase.
Because Blake isn’t your heir anymore. I stared at him in confusion. What are you talking about? Harrison did some digging into your estate planning.
Three months ago, you updated your will to establish a charitable foundation instead of leaving everything to Blake. If you died today, Blake would inherit nothing. The memory came flooding back.
I’d been concerned about Blake’s spending habits and his series of failed business ventures. My estate attorney had suggested creating a foundation that would provide Blake with a comfortable income while ensuring the bulk of the prince will fortune would be used for charitable purposes. Blake knows about the will change.
Marcus continued. Your attorney’s office confirmed that Blake called asking about your estate plans about six weeks ago. So he knew that killing me wouldn’t get him the inheritance.
Right. But if you were convicted of attempting to murder Skylar, the will could be challenged on grounds of mental incompetence or criminal behavior. Blake could argue that you weren’t of sound mind when you changed the will.
The complexity of their plan was staggering. They hadn’t just tried to kill me. They tried to destroy my reputation and mental competency so that Blake could inherit my fortune even after I’d specifically disinherited him.
There’s more, Marcus said. We found evidence that Blake has been taking out loans against his expected inheritance. He owes money to several legitimate lenders and some very illegitimate ones.
If he doesn’t inherit your estate, he’s not just broke. He’s in physical danger from the people he owes money to. Exactly.
These aren’t the kind of creditors who accept payment plans. I spent that night staring at the ceiling of my cell, processing the full scope of Blake and Victoria’s betrayal. My son hadn’t just been greedy.
He’d been desperate and desperate. People were capable of anything. But knowledge was power.
And now I had the ammunition I needed to fight back. Maria, I said to my cellmate around 2 a.m. What do you know about getting revenge on people who try to destroy your life? She rolled over and looked at me with new interest. Honey, that depends on how far you’re willing to go and how much money you’ve got to spend.