Chapter 6 - The Will
The original will was hidden in a place nobody expected.
Not a bank.
Not a lawyer's office.
Not a safe.
It was inside an old piano.
Anne had played it every Sunday.
After her death, Charles had refused to let anyone touch it.
Claire remembered that.
They returned to the Whitmore mansion after midnight.
The house was empty.
Dominic entered first.
Claire followed.
“Your father isn't here,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“The lights are off.”
“That's your evidence?”
He glanced at her.
“No.”
He checked the hallway.
“My evidence is that your father always leaves one light on in the library.”
Claire smiled.
“You've been studying him.”
“I study people.”
“That's creepy.”
“Useful.”
They reached the piano.
Claire ran her fingers along the wood.
Nothing.
Then she remembered something her mother had once told her.
Music has a way of hiding what people don't want to hear.
Claire opened the piano.
The inside was dusty.
She looked beneath the keyboard.
A narrow compartment opened.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT — ANNE DONOVAN WHITMORE
Claire's hands trembled.
They opened it with a lawyer present the next morning.
The will was unmistakable.
Anne left Claire sixty percent of Whitmore Freight & Marine.
The remaining forty percent went into a family trust.
Charles had never owned controlling interest.
He had been managing Claire's inheritance for fifteen years.
Dominic read the final clause.
Then looked at Claire.
“There's more.”
She read it.
If Claire is not given control of the company upon reaching thirty, the trustee shall initiate a complete forensic audit and notify federal authorities of any financial irregularities.
Claire looked up.
The trustee's name was Edward Donovan.
Her uncle.
Charles had known.
He had hidden the will.
Claire sat back.
“That's why he kept me out.”
“Yes.”
“He knew I would take control.”
“Yes.”
“And he used my company to pay his debts.”
Dominic nodded.
The lawyer cleared his throat.
“There is another issue.”
“What?”
“The will was executed fifteen years ago.”
“Before Mom died?”
“Yes.”
Claire frowned.
“Then why didn't she change it?”
The lawyer hesitated.
“She may have expected something to happen.”
Claire's stomach tightened.
Dominic looked at Edward.
“You said Anne feared Charles.”
“She did.”
“Enough to prepare this?”
“Yes.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Then her phone rang.
Charles.
She answered.
“Dad?”
His voice sounded exhausted.
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“Because I need to see you.”
“I'm done hiding.”
“Claire…”
“I know about the will.”
Silence.
Charles finally whispered:
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“You had fifteen years.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“The people who were behind your mother's death.”
Claire froze.
“What people?”
Charles breathed heavily.
“I made a deal with them.”
Dominic looked at her.
She put the call on speaker.
Charles continued.
“They wanted control of the company.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear I'm not.”
“Then why did you pay them?”
“Because they threatened you.”
Claire's voice broke.
“When?”
“After your mother died.”
Dominic's eyes hardened.
“What did they want?”
Charles answered:
“Your inheritance.”
The call ended.
Claire stared at the phone.
Then another message arrived.
A photograph.
Claire herself.
Standing beside Dominic.
The caption said:
You should have listened to your father.
Dominic took the phone from her.
His expression turned cold.
“They're watching us.”
Claire whispered:
“Who?”
Before he could answer, the mansion lights suddenly went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Claire grabbed Dominic's arm.
A crash came from upstairs.
Then another.
Dominic pulled her behind him.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“You don't get to leave me alone.”
He looked at her.
Then nodded.
“Fine.”
They moved together through the dark hallway.
A door slammed.
Someone ran.
Dominic followed.
Claire stayed close.
They reached the upstairs office.
The window was open.
The intruder was gone.
But a file had been left on the desk.
Dominic opened it.
His expression changed.
Claire saw the first page.
It was a copy of her birth certificate.
Underneath it was another document.
A medical report.
She read the diagnosis.
Then looked at Dominic.
“What is this?”
He didn't answer.
“Dominic.”
He handed her the page.
It was a medical report on Anne Whitmore.
The cause of death had been listed as accidental trauma.
But the report contained one handwritten note:
Possible brake failure. Further investigation recommended.
Claire's hands shook.
Her mother hadn't simply died.
May you like
Someone had suspected sabotage.
And someone had made sure nobody investigated.
