Page 46 of Saving it with My Best Friend's Brother

“It’s not over,” I sighed, sinking into my chair. “Wheeler won’t give up that easily.”

“No,” Hunter agreed, perching on the edge of my desk. “But now he knows we have actual evidence.”

“About that...” Claire’s expression turned serious. “I’ve been going through more of your mom’s letters. There’s something you both need to see.”

She handed me a letter dated just days before my mother’s death. My hands trembled as I read out loud:

“My dearest Michael and Amelia,

If you’re reading this, something has happened. The evidence I’ve gathered about Crystal Ridge, about Richard Miller’s death, about everything—it’s not just in these letters. There’s more hidden where they’d never think to look.

Remember the story I used to tell you about the wishing well? Some wishes need to be kept safe until the right moment.

All my love,

Mom”

“The wishing well?” Hunter asked.

“At the old picnic grounds,” I breathed. “Mom used to take me there. Said it was magical, that it kept secrets safe.”

“We need to—” Claire started, but my phone buzzed—Wheeler’s number.

I put it on speaker.

“That was quite a performance,” his voice dripped venom. “Your mother would have been proud. Right until the moment her car went off Pine Haven Road.”

My blood froze. Hunter’s hand found my shoulder, steadying me.

“What are you talking about?” My voice shook.

“Oh? Daddy never told you? How convenient that your mother and Richard Miller had accidents on the same stretch of road. Almost like... history repeating.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I? Check the accident reports. Same curve and the same type of brake failure. And now here you are, driving that road every day...” He paused meaningfully. “Would be tragic if—”

Hunter snatched the phone. “Touch her and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Wheeler laughed. “Face it, Miller. You couldn’t protect your father. You can’t protect her. But I’m feeling generous. One hour to sign over Pine Haven or tomorrow’s papers runs a very interesting story about how Margaret Horton orchestrated Richard Miller’s death. Complete with forged documents proving she profited from Crystal Ridge’s takeover.”

The line went dead.

“First things first,” Claire said firmly, pulling out her laptop. “We need to document everything.”

“Already on it,” Hunter nodded, his hand still steady on my shoulder. “I’ve been recording all calls and saving screenshots of every threat. My security team has been sending everything to the FBI’s white-collar crimes division.”

I turned to him, surprised. “The FBI?”

“Started working with them after Janet McKinley’s death,” he explained. “Agent Sienna Blake has been building a case against Crystal Ridge for months. She’s particularly interested in the pattern of accidents and property acquisitions.”

Claire was already dialing. “Local police first, then I’ll conference call in Agent Blake. We need everything on record before we go anywhere near that well.”

Twenty minutes later, my office was full of law enforcement. Two local deputies took our statements while Agent Blake took part via video call, her sharp eyes taking in every detail.

“Wheeler’s threats are exactly what we needed,” she said, making notes. “Combined with the evidence you’ve already provided about the Miller Lodge fire and the falsified insurance reports, we’ve got enough for search warrants.”

“But you can’t move yet,” I realized. “Not without alerting them.”

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