Chapter 7: What Richard Did Next
Richard had been released on bail the morning after the wedding.
His legal team — not Gerald, who had resigned; a new firm, expensive and fast — moved quickly.
Within seventy-two hours they had filed a motion challenging the admissibility of the forged document evidence on procedural grounds, citing the chain of custody.
It was the kind of move designed not to win but to slow things down, to buy time, to make the other side spend money and energy defending ground they had already taken.
Sophia received the news from Graham on a Tuesday morning.
"It's standard," Graham said.
"It won't succeed.
But it will delay the preliminary hearing by six to eight weeks."
"Can Lawrence's testimony offset it?"
"Significantly.
A direct witness to the forgery changes the procedural argument entirely.
They'll try to discredit him, but his records are contemporaneous — dates, amounts, communications.
That's not easy to argue around."
"What about Carolyn?"
A pause.
"Her solicitor contacted us yesterday.
She's cooperating."
Sophia set her coffee down.
"Cooperating how?"
"She's provided a statement confirming that Richard told her, in 2003, that the Ashworth estate had been acquired through a legal settlement.
She says she believed him.
She says she had no knowledge of the forgery or the competency arrangement." Another pause.
"Whether that's true is a matter for the investigators.
But she's not protecting him."
"She's protecting herself."
"Yes.
But the effect is the same."
Sophia thanked him and ended the call.
She was sitting in the kitchen of the small flat she had rented in Bristol — near enough to Vivienne's house that they could meet easily, far enough that they both had room to breathe.
They were still learning each other.
Twenty-three years of absence does not dissolve in a month.
But they had dinner twice a week, and Vivienne had started calling on Sunday mornings, and that felt like something being built rather than something being recovered.
Her phone rang again.
Unknown number.
She answered it.
"Miss Ashworth." A man's voice.
Smooth.
Deliberate.
Not Lawrence.
"My name is Peter Vane.
I represent Richard Holt.
I wonder if you might be willing to meet."
She kept her voice neutral.
"For what purpose?"
"Mr.
Holt would like to make a proposal.
A private settlement.
Full financial restitution of the Ashworth estate, plus a sum to be negotiated, in exchange for a withdrawal of the criminal complaint."
Her hand tightened on the phone.
"He wants me to drop the charges."
"He wants to resolve this in a way that avoids further damage to all parties."
"Further damage," she repeated.
"Miss Ashworth, a criminal trial will be long, expensive, and public.
There will be testimony about your mother's time in the care facility.
About your own placement history.
Details that — "
"Stop," she said.
He stopped.
"Tell your client," she said, "that the answer is no.
Tell him that Lawrence Holt gave us a hard drive this week.
Tell him we know about the Cayman account.
And tell him that the next time he wants to send someone to threaten me with my own history, he should find someone better at it."
She ended the call.
Her hands were steady.
She noticed that.
She sat with it for a moment.
Then she called Graham.
"Richard just tried to buy me off through a solicitor named Peter Vane," she said when he picked up.
"I need you to make sure the investigators know he's attempting to interfere with the complaint."
"I'll call them now," Graham said.
"Sophia — are you alright?"
She looked out the window.
The street below was ordinary.
A woman walking a dog.
A delivery van.
A child on a bicycle with stabilizers, wobbling slightly, correcting.
"Yes," she said.
"I'm alright."
But she sat there for a long time after she hung up.
Because Peter Vane had said one thing that stayed with her, underneath the threat, underneath the anger.
*Details about your own placement history.*
Richard knew something about her time in foster care.
Something specific.
May you like
Something he thought would hurt her enough to make her stop.
She needed to find out what it was before he used it.
