Chapter 8: The Will That Changed Everything
At eight the next morning, Dad drove us to Martin Shaw's law office.
Mom sat in the passenger seat.
I sat in the back with Jasmine.
Nobody spoke much during the drive.
Jasmine had barely slept.
She kept looking at her phone, checking whether Marcus had sent another message.
Dad had turned his phone off.
He wanted to hear what the attorney had to say before responding to anyone.
Martin's office was on the fourth floor of an old brick building.
He was a tall man in his late sixties, with silver hair and a pair of reading glasses hanging from his shirt.
When we entered, he stood immediately.
"James.""
Dad shook his hand.
"Martin. We need to talk about my mother.""
Martin looked at the rest of us.
"Please, sit down.""
He closed the office door.
Then he placed a thick folder on the desk.
"I suspected this might happen.""
Dad stared at him.
"Why didn't you contact me?""
"I tried.""
"When?""
"Several times after your mother's funeral. But I was told that all estate matters had been transferred to Robert Mitchell.""
Dad shook his head.
"Robert was never authorized to handle the entire estate.""
Martin removed a document.
"That's what I discovered.""
Mom leaned forward.
"What exactly happened?""
Martin folded his hands.
"Your mother originally prepared a will several years ago. But approximately four months before her death, she requested that I prepare a revised version.""
Dad looked stunned.
"Why?""
"She wanted to change the distribution of certain assets and create a protected trust for her grandchildren.""
I asked, "What changed?""
Martin turned a page.
"She had become concerned about financial pressure being placed on her.""
Dad frowned.
"By whom?""
Martin hesitated.
"She didn't give me a complete explanation. But she mentioned that someone had been asking her for money and encouraging her to transfer ownership of certain accounts.""
Mom looked at Dad.
"Was it Patricia?""
Martin shook his head.
"She never named anyone.""
He opened another folder.
"This is the revised will. It was signed and witnessed properly. But before it could be formally submitted, your mother became ill.""
Dad took the document.
His hands trembled as he read.
The will included instructions for the family trust.
It also included a clause protecting the inheritance from claims made by creditors or outside business partners.
The grandchildren would receive their shares under specific conditions.
But there was something else.
The revised will specifically excluded any company created using family assets without the trustee's approval.
Dad read the sentence twice.
"Who was supposed to be the trustee?""
Martin pointed to the next page.
"Initially, you.""
Dad nodded.
"That makes sense.""
"But your mother later requested an additional independent trustee.""
"Who?""
Martin turned the page.
The name appeared in bold.
*Daniel Carter.*
I stared at it.
"What?""
Dad looked at me.
Martin explained.
"Your grandmother wanted someone younger involved in protecting the family assets. She believed you were more cautious with money than your brother.""
I didn't know what to say.
Dad looked uncomfortable.
"Why didn't she tell us?""
"She planned to. But she wanted the revised documents completed first.""
Mom looked at the date.
"She signed this four months before she died?""
"Correct.""
Dad leaned back.
"Then how did Robert get control of the estate account?""
Martin sighed.
"That's what concerns me.""
He placed another document on the desk.
It was a letter signed by Robert Mitchell, claiming that Grandma had revoked the revised will shortly before her death.
But the date was questionable.
Martin pointed to the signature.
"This was submitted after her passing.""
Dad frowned.
"How could she revoke anything after she died?""
"Exactly.""
Martin removed his glasses.
"The document was rejected during an initial review. However, someone subsequently submitted a different authorization allowing Robert to manage the old family account.""
I stared at the papers.
"So the company was created using the old account?""
"Yes.""
"And the revised will was hidden?""
Martin nodded.
"That appears to be what happened.""
Dad leaned forward.
"Who submitted the authorization?""
Martin turned to his computer.
He opened an email.
The sender's name was Robert Mitchell.
But the email account had been accessed using an address registered to Marcus.
Dad's expression hardened.
"Did Marcus know about the second will?""
Martin looked at him.
"I believe he did.""
Mom shook her head.
"How?""
Martin opened another file.
It was a scan of a handwritten letter from Grandma.
The letter was addressed to Marcus.
It had been written two months before her death.
Martin read it aloud.
"Marcus, I love you, and I want you to have every opportunity to build a good life. But money cannot replace responsibility. I will not release your inheritance simply because you ask for it. You must show that you can manage your own affairs without placing your obligations on other people.""
He stopped.
Then he read the final paragraph.
"If you choose to marry, build your household honestly. Do not use your wife as a guarantee for debts you have not disclosed. And never allow anyone to convince you that family money is yours before it is legally yours.""
The room became silent.
Jasmine began crying.
Dad stared at the letter.
"She knew.""
Martin nodded.
"She was concerned.""
I looked at the date.
Two months before Grandma died.
Marcus had received a direct warning.
And he had done exactly what she told him not to do.
Dad slowly placed the letter on the desk.
"What happens now?""
Martin opened the revised will.
"The revised document must be submitted for legal review. The financial transfers will need to be investigated separately. And the company assets may be subject to recovery if they were purchased using improperly transferred funds.""
"What about the inheritance?""
"Any distribution to Marcus is on hold.""
Dad nodded.
"And Patricia?""
Martin looked uncomfortable.
"She appears to have witnessed at least one of the disputed documents. We need to establish whether she understood what she was signing.""
Jasmine spoke for the first time.
"I have something else.""
She removed her phone.
"Marcus sent me this last night.""
The message was a photograph of a document.
It showed a handwritten list of financial obligations.
At the top was a heading:
*FINAL SETTLEMENT — BEFORE TRUST RELEASE.*
The list included Victoria's investment.
The apartment expenses.
The wedding balance.
And a final amount beside the name Robert Mitchell.
$22,000.
Dad stared at it.
"Why does Robert need twenty-two thousand dollars?""
Jasmine shook her head.
"I don't know.""
Martin examined the photograph.
Then he leaned forward.
"May I see that again?""
He enlarged the document.
His expression changed.
"That's not a settlement list.""
Dad frowned.
"What is it?""
Martin pointed to the bottom.
There was a reference number.
He searched it in his records.
Then he found a document from the estate file.
It was a request for the transfer of the family trust's remaining assets into a new account.
The account was controlled by Carter Family Holdings.
And the person listed as the final beneficiary was not Marcus.
It was Robert Mitchell.
Martin slowly removed his glasses.
"This is serious.""
Dad looked at him.
"How serious?""
"Your mother did not create this company. She did not authorize these transfers. And if these documents are genuine, someone has been attempting to take control of the entire trust.""
I felt my stomach drop.
"How much is in the trust?""
Martin looked at Dad.
"Approximately $186,000, including the remaining property proceeds.""
Mom covered her mouth.
Dad stood up.
"Then we stop it.""
Martin nodded.
"I've already requested an emergency hold on the disputed transfers.""
He picked up his phone.
"But there's something else you should know.""
He turned the screen toward us.
A security photograph showed someone entering the records room at his old office.
The person was carrying a brown leather briefcase.
Martin enlarged the photograph.
It was Patricia.
Dad stared at the screen.
"Why was my sister in your office?""
Martin answered quietly.
"She collected the original estate documents six months ago.""
Dad looked confused.
"You gave them to her?""
"No. She claimed you had authorized her to collect them.""
"Did I?""
Martin shook his head.
"That's why I refused.""
He pointed toward the photograph.
"She returned two days later with a signed authorization.""
Dad looked at the document.
The signature was his.
Or at least, someone had copied it.
I felt cold.
"Someone forged Dad's signature too.""
Martin nodded.
"And the records show that the original will was removed from the office shortly afterward.""
Dad stared at the photograph.
Then his phone rang.
This time, it was Patricia.
He answered.
"Where are you?""
Her voice was shaking.
"James, you need to listen to me.""
"Where are the original documents?""
"I don't have them.""
"Stop lying.""
"Please. Marcus said he would fix everything.""
Dad closed his eyes.
"Patricia, what did you do?""
She began crying.
"I only wanted to help my son.""
Dad's face changed.
"Your son?""
"Marcus promised Kevin would get his money back. He said the business was going to succeed.""
"What did you sign?""
"I didn't know the documents were fraudulent.""
Martin leaned toward the phone.
"Patricia, this is Martin Shaw. Do you still have the original trust documents?""
She went silent.
Then she whispered:
"No.""
Dad tightened his grip.
"Who has them?""
Patricia began sobbing.
And then she said the one name nobody expected.
"Marcus.""
The call ended.
Dad stood completely still.
Martin immediately contacted the relevant authorities and arranged to preserve the estate records.
But before we left his office, my phone received another message.
It was from Marcus.
A photograph appeared on the screen.
He was standing inside Grandma's old house.
Behind him was a large safe.
His message read:
Grandma left something for me. If you want the truth, come alone.
Then another message appeared.
And bring the original trust papers.
I looked at Dad.
He read the message.
"No.""
I frowned.
"What?""
"You're not going anywhere alone.""
But Marcus sent one final photograph.
It showed the inside of the safe.
And sitting on top of a stack of documents was a small velvet box.
I recognized it immediately.
May you like
It was the box Grandma had kept beside her bed.
The box containing the key to her private safety deposit account.
