Chapter 8 - The Robe in the PhotographSarah hadn't planned to look at Victoria's social media.
She had spent the morning trying not to think about the woman sleeping in her bedroom.
But at lunchtime, Alex showed her a screenshot.
"Before you get upset, this was sent to me by Mr. Wilson's grandson. He recognized something in the background."
The photograph showed Victoria standing before a mirror.
She wore Sarah's pale blue silk robe.
Behind her were the carved wooden bedframe, crystal lamp, and cream-colored curtains from the Wellington master bedroom.
The caption read:
Some women are born to belong where others never will.
Sarah stared at the photograph.
It had been posted at 9:06 that morning.
Less than forty-eight hours after her hospitalization.
Her first impulse was to throw the phone.
Instead, she looked closer.
Something lay on the dresser behind Victoria.
A dark tablet.
Sarah enlarged the photograph.
The tablet was plugged into a white charging cord beside a stack of documents.
On the top page was the recognizable logo of the electronic signature service.
Sarah felt her breath catch.
"Alex."
He leaned over.
"See the dresser?"
He squinted.
"Is that the tablet?"
"Yes."
"Could be an old document."
"I know."
She studied the photograph again.
The tablet's case had a distinctive crack near the camera.
She remembered that crack.
Christopher had dropped it while moving furniture in the upstairs sitting room.
Victoria was posing beside a device Sarah suspected had been used to access her email.
And she was doing it inside Sarah's bedroom.
Alex took a screenshot preserving the visible post information.
"Send it to Dana," he said.
Sarah nodded.
But she wasn't finished.
She opened another photograph from Victoria's public profile.
It showed a champagne glass resting on a desk.
The caption described a "well-deserved celebration."
The date was September 24.
The same day Sarah's electronic signature had supposedly been completed.
In the background, the shared tablet was visible again.
So was Christopher's navy sweater, folded over the chair.
Sarah stared at the image.
The detail was small.
But it answered a question.
Victoria had been at the estate while Sarah was at her prenatal appointment.
And Christopher's clothing was in the same room.
Sarah forwarded both photographs to Dana.
Within minutes, the attorney called.
"These images establish possible access and timing. They don't prove who approved the document."
"I understand."
"Good. We need to preserve the original posts and request the electronic signature audit records. Please don't confront Victoria online."
Sarah almost laughed.
"That was exactly what I was considering."
"Her posts may be more useful than an argument."
Sarah looked again at the pale blue robe.
"That robe was mine."
"Do you have proof?"
"A photograph of Christopher giving it to me. A receipt, too, probably."
"Keep both. Property can be recovered through appropriate channels, but don't go back to the estate alone."
Sarah pressed the phone against her ear.
"Why does she keep posting pictures of it?"
Dana paused.
"I can't know her motive. But I wouldn't give her the reaction she seems to be seeking."
After the call, Sarah opened an old photo album.
She found the anniversary photograph.
Christopher stood beside her beneath the estate's grand staircase.
Sarah wore the blue robe over her pajamas, laughing as he kissed her forehead.
The memory hurt more than she'd expected.
That night, he'd promised to spend his life protecting her.
Sarah stared at his younger face.
Had he meant it?
Or had he only meant it while loving her was convenient?
Her phone vibrated.
Victoria had sent a private message.
I think you left something behind.
Attached was another photograph.
This time the robe lay across the bed, and Sarah's wedding ring rested on top of it.
Sarah touched her left hand.
She had removed the ring in the hospital because her fingers were swollen.
She'd forgotten it in the bathroom drawer days earlier.
Victoria had taken it.
A second message appeared.
Christopher says you're refusing to accept reality. Maybe this will help.
Sarah typed three angry sentences.
Then deleted them.
Instead, she forwarded the messages to Dana.
She wrote only:
These items belong to me. Please include them in the property retrieval request.
The phone rang almost immediately.
Victoria.
Sarah declined.
Another call.
Then another.
She blocked the number.
For the first time, denying Victoria an audience felt more powerful than any insult she could have delivered.
But that evening, Christopher sent a message of his own.
Victoria is upset. She's saying you threatened her. Mom wants all communication through the lawyers now.
Sarah stared at the accusation.
She hadn't spoken to Victoria once.
May you like
Then another message arrived.
And Sarah, please stop digging into September 24. You don't know what you'll find.
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