Chapter 10
“Mr. Vance.”
Alexander stood.
“Clara, this is Dana Patel. She heads my personal legal office.”
I stiffened.
“No lawyers.”
Dana stopped.
“That’s fair.”
She remained near the door.
“I came because something happened after we left the courthouse.”
My stomach dropped.
“Richard?”
“He went back inside with his attorney.”
“For what?”
“To file an emergency motion.”
I laughed once in disbelief.
“An emergency motion for what? My shoes?”
Dana’s mouth almost smiled.
“Not against you.”
She opened the portfolio.
“Against the prenuptial agreement.”
I stared at her.
“He just spent months enforcing it.”
“Correct.”
“Why would he challenge it now?”
“Because he believes invalidating it may give him access to something he didn’t know existed when he wanted the marriage ended.”
Alexander rose slowly.
“What did he find?”
Dana handed him a photocopy.
He read the first page.
Then his face changed.
It was subtle.
But I saw it.
“What?” I asked.
He looked at Dana.
“Where did they get this?”
“We don’t know.”
“What is it?”
Neither answered.
My patience snapped.
“I am finished being the last person in the room who knows what’s happening.”
Alexander walked to my bedside.
He handed me the paper.
At first I saw only legal language.
Date.
Jurisdiction.
Names.
Then I found mine.
CLARA ELEANOR BENNETT.
Beneath it were the words:
Beneficiary designation.
My mouth went dry.
“What is this?”
Dana answered carefully.
“It appears to be part of a private trust instrument established twenty-three years ago.”
“By who?”
“We haven’t verified the signature yet.”
I looked down.
Settlor:
Margaret Vance.
I glanced at Alexander.
“Who is Margaret Vance?”
He sat down.
“My mother.”
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because reality had become so strange that my mind no longer knew what sound belonged in the room.
“Your mother left me money?”
“We don’t know that.”
Dana moved closer.
“This page names you as a beneficiary, but we don’t have the complete trust. We don’t know its value, conditions, trustees, or whether the instrument was ever funded.”
“Richard thinks it’s real.”
“Apparently.”
“How did he know about it?”
Dana hesitated.
“Possibly from the papers he obtained.”
The box.
My mother’s letters.
Richard had not stolen random keepsakes.
He had been looking for something.
I stared at the trust document.
“If Richard knew I might have money, why divorce me?”
“He may not have known until today,” Dana said. “Our theory is that something in the box was encrypted, sealed, incomplete, or otherwise meaningless without additional information.”