In the Middle of Her Wedding, My Daughter Gave Me a Note That Began With “Dad…”

The Predator’s Strategy

I felt sick.

“What about Claire?” I asked.

Claire has no significant assets of her own. She makes good money in marketing but nothing that would interest someone like Tyler.

“However,” Margaret paused.

“If Tyler thinks Claire stands to inherit this ranch and doesn’t know its actual value, he might be gambling on future assets. Or he’s researched me and knows more than he’s letting on,” I suggested.

Margaret nodded.

“I’d recommend having a serious conversation with Claire,” she advised.

But I couldn’t, not without proof. Claire was so happy and so excited about the wedding.

What if I was wrong? What if I destroyed her relationship over paranoia?

I needed to be sure. That weekend, Tyler came by to help with some wedding setup.

He parked his Audi in the driveway and walked up to the porch where I was sitting.

“Robert, you got a minute? I wanted to run something by you,” he asked.

Planted Seeds and Private Eyes

“Sure,” I said.

He sat down, all earnest concern.

“Look, I know this might be sensitive, but Claire and I have been talking about our future finances, planning, all that responsible adult stuff,” he laughed.

“I’m an investment adviser, so I can’t help myself. I was wondering, have you thought about estate planning, making sure everything’s set up properly for Claire?” he questioned.

My blood went cold, but I kept my face neutral.

“I’ve got a will,” I replied.

“That’s great, but with a property like this, you might want to consider a trust. More tax-efficient. I’d be happy to help, no charge. I mean, I’m going to be family,” he said.

“I’ll think about it,” I told him.

“And Robert, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but at your age, you should also think about long-term care planning. What if something happens? Who’s going to manage this place? A ranch is a lot of work for one person,” he added.

There it was, the same script he’d probably used with Rebecca’s father and Sarah’s father. Plant the seed, get access to the financials, then what?

I didn’t know yet, but I was going to find out.

“You make a good point,” I said slowly.

“Tell you what, why don’t you and I sit down sometime next week? You can explain all these strategies to me,” I suggested.

Tyler’s eyes lit up.

“Absolutely. I’ll bring some materials. We can really optimize your situation,” he answered.

The Recording in the Car

After he left, I called Margaret again.

“I need surveillance,” I told her.

“Robert,” she started.

“He just asked about my estate planning and long-term care. He’s positioning. I need to know what he’s really planning,” I insisted.

Margaret was quiet for a moment.

“I know someone. A private investigator, very discreet. Hire them,” she said.

The investigator, a woman named Patricia, was worth every penny. Within a week she had Tyler’s phone records, his email patterns, and his meeting schedules.

Nothing illegal, she assured me, just good old-fashioned detective work and some strategic social engineering. She called me on a Tuesday evening in August.

“Mr. Caldwell, you need to hear this,” she said.

She’d managed to place a recording device in Tyler’s car during a routine service appointment at the dealership. It was legal, she assured me, because the device was technically a maintenance sensor that happened to record audio.

The lawyers could figure it out later. I listened to the recording in my study alone.

“Yeah, I’m at the ranch again playing the beautiful son-in-law. This old man has no idea,” Tyler’s voice said.

“You sure about the value?” another male voice, Marcus, asked.

“Marcus, I’ve checked the county records three times. Two hundred and fifteen acres and he bought it in ’94 for peanuts. With Denver development reaching this far out, we’re talking minimum four million, probably closer to five if we play it right,” Tyler replied.

The Cold-Blooded Plan

“And the old man?” Marcus asked.

“He’s got to be loaded. Look at this property, free and clear. He’s been retired for five years, lives alone, no debt. He’s probably sitting on a couple million in investments, maybe more. The daughter has no clue. She thinks Daddy’s just a regular middle-class retiree,” Tyler said.

“So what’s the play?” Marcus asked.

“I marry Claire in September, spend the first year being the perfect husband, the devoted son-in-law. Get him to trust me, maybe get financial power of attorney under the guise of helping out. Old guy lives alone, who knows what could happen? A fall, an accident, some cognitive decline. Before you know it, he’s in a care facility. I’m managing his affairs, and Claire inherits everything. We’ll be divorced before she figures out what happened, and I’ll take my half in the settlement,” Tyler explained.

Marcus laughed.

“You’re a cold bastard, Tyler,” he said.

“I’m a practical businessman. Rebecca was a waste of time, her father caught on too fast. Sarah was better, but her old man had everything in a trust. This one, this one’s perfect. Small-town guy, no sophistication about protecting assets. It’s like he’s asking to be taken,” Tyler replied.

I turned off the recording. My hands were shaking, not with fear, but with rage.

But rage wouldn’t help Claire. I needed to be smart.

I called Margaret and Patricia into an emergency meeting.
“I have the proof now. I need a strategy,” I said.