Chapter 11: The Will Nobody Was Supposed to Find
Arthur drove us to his office.
My mother sat in the back seat, clutching her handbag.
She hadn't spoken since revealing the existence of the original will.
I kept thinking about my father's recording.
Especially Olivia. She's the one who still believes this family can be good.
I didn't know whether I could ever believe that again.
At Arthur's office, he immediately called the trust's attorney.
A woman named Margaret Lewis arrived twenty minutes later carrying a thick leather briefcase.
She was in her sixties, with short gray hair and an expression that suggested she had little patience for dishonesty.
“Patricia,” she said when she entered.
My mother looked away.
Margaret placed her briefcase on the table.
“I warned you eleven years ago that redirecting Eleanor's correspondence would have consequences.””
Patricia folded her arms.
“I don't know what you're talking about.””
Margaret removed a document.
“Your signature is on the acknowledgment.””
My mother said nothing.
Margaret turned toward me.
“Olivia, your grandmother created two separate legal arrangements. The first was the design trust, which protected her intellectual property. The second was her personal estate.””
I listened carefully.
“The design trust names you as the sole beneficiary,” she continued.
“But the original will contains additional provisions.””
“What provisions?””
Margaret opened her briefcase.
“Eleanor left the studio property, the adjoining warehouse, and her personal collection of jewelry to you. She also established a medical assistance fund specifically for your education and healthcare.””
I stared at her.
“Medical assistance?””
“Yes. Your grandmother knew about your eye condition long before you were diagnosed. She had instructed the trustees to preserve enough money to cover necessary treatment.””
My throat tightened.
“How much?””
Margaret hesitated.
“The fund currently contains approximately $180,000, including accumulated interest.””
I gripped the table.
My surgery.
I could afford it.
After all these years, the money had been waiting for me.
“Why didn't I know about it?””
Margaret looked toward my mother.
“Because the original will disappeared shortly after Eleanor's funeral.””
My mother immediately stood.
“This is getting out of control.””
Margaret didn't look up.
“Sit down, Patricia.””
“You can't accuse me without evidence.””
“We have evidence that you redirected legal notices, submitted a false signature, and attempted to transfer protected intellectual property.””
My mother sat again.
I looked at Margaret.
“Where is the original will?””
She opened a small folder.
“Richard Bennett claims he has it. He contacted the trust's former administrator three days ago, offering to return the document in exchange for a payment.””
Arthur slammed his palm against the table.
“Of course he did.””
Margaret nodded.
“He believes the original will contains a clause that invalidates Olivia's inheritance.””
“What clause?”” I asked.
She removed a photocopy.
The bottom section was partially faded.
“There's a provision requiring the primary beneficiary to complete one original collection under the supervision of the family trust before receiving full control of the studio.””
I stared at the page.
“Does that mean I have to win the competition?””
“No. The competition is not mentioned. The requirement is to complete an independent collection demonstrating that the beneficiary understands the original design principles.””
I remembered Grandma's twelve sketches.
The collection she'd left for me.
Margaret continued.
“Richard believes the requirement was never fulfilled because you never completed the collection.””
I felt a wave of uncertainty.
“I've only made one gown.””
“That's why we need the original will. The wording may have been altered in the photocopy.””
Arthur looked toward Margaret.
“Can Richard legally sell the designs?””
“Not without the trust's authorization. But he can create enough confusion to delay enforcement, especially if he produces an apparently valid will.””
My phone vibrated.
A message from Maya.
Olivia, Mom is gone. She took the car and left the house. I found something in her bedroom. Please call me.
I immediately called her.
She answered breathlessly.
“Olivia?””
“Where are you?””
“At home. I think Mom knew you were coming here.””
“What did you find?””
“A box under her bed. It has Grandma's old papers.””
“Don't touch anything. I'm coming.””
I turned toward Arthur.
He grabbed his keys.
“I'll drive.””
Twenty-five minutes later, we arrived at my mother's house.
Maya was waiting at the front door.
Her makeup was smudged, and her hair was tied into a messy knot.
She led us upstairs.
Inside Patricia's bedroom, a small wooden box sat open on the floor.
I recognized the handwriting on the lid.
Eleanor Parker.
Maya pulled out a stack of envelopes.
“Mom kept these hidden.””
I picked up the first one.
It was addressed to me.
The date was eleven years earlier.
I opened it.
My dearest Olivia, if your mother has kept this letter from you, I hope you will forgive her one day. I have arranged for your future to be protected. The studio belongs to you, and the medical fund is yours whenever you need it.
My eyes filled.
There were several more letters.
One was addressed to Maya.
Another was addressed to Patricia.
Maya picked up her envelope.
“Should I read this?””
I nodded.
She opened it.
Her face changed as she read.
“What?”” I asked.
She handed me the letter.
It contained only a few paragraphs.
Dear Maya, you are talented in ways you may not yet understand. But never confuse being loved with being entitled to another person's work. Your sister has a gift that I hope you will learn to respect. If you ever find yourself standing in the shadow of her success, remember that you do not need to steal her light to find your own.
Maya began crying.
“I knew she loved me,” she whispered.
“I just thought she loved you more.””
I folded the letter.
“She loved us differently.””
Maya nodded.
Then she reached into the box and pulled out a small silver key.
It was attached to a paper tag.
*Safety Deposit Box — Atlanta First National Bank.*
Arthur examined it.
“That's probably where the original will is.””
Margaret looked relieved.
“If Richard hasn't already found it.””
I turned over the tag.
There was a handwritten note on the back.
The truth must be opened by both daughters.
Maya looked at me.
“Both of us?””
I nodded slowly.
For the first time, I wondered whether Grandma had intended this moment all along.
But before we could leave, my phone rang.
The caller ID showed an unknown number.
I answered.
Richard's voice came through.
“Olivia, I hear you've been searching for Eleanor's will.””
I didn't speak.
He laughed softly.
“Your grandmother left something out of the letters. Something Patricia was too frightened to tell you.””
“What do you want?””
“The original will. Bring me the key, and I'll explain everything.””
“Why should I trust you?””
“Because your father wasn't the only person who made a recording that night.””
My blood turned cold.
Richard continued.
“There's a second recording. And it proves your mother wasn't the person who betrayed Daniel.””
Then he hung up.
I looked at Arthur.
He had heard enough to understand.
“Don't believe him,” he said.
But Maya was staring at the wooden box.
“There was another envelope,” she whispered.
She pulled a folded piece of paper from beneath the lining.
It contained a photograph of my father, standing beside Richard.
May you like
On the back, Grandma had written:
One of these men knows who really caused Daniel's death.
