Chapter 9 - Noah Cross Walked Into My HouseWe let him in only after Mark checked the porch and driveway.
Noah looked nothing like the image I had built in my head.
He was thirty-eight.
Tall.
Quiet.
A thin scar ran along his jaw.
He carried no weapon.
At least none we could see.
He looked at me for several seconds.
Then he said:
“You look exactly like him.”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
He sat.
“My mother told me you existed.”
I swallowed.
“When?”
“She didn’t.”
That answer confused me.
“What?”
“I found out about you three months ago.”
“Then how did you know where I lived?”
“Your mother.”
The room went silent.
“She contacted me.”
“Why?”
“To make a deal.”
“What deal?”
“She wanted me to disappear.”
Melissa crossed her arms.
“In exchange for what?”
“Money.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand.”
Evan swore under his breath.
Noah looked at me.
“She said you were close to finding documents that could destroy her.”
I felt cold.
“What documents?”
“The original trust agreement.”
I knew what he meant.
My name had been used.
But maybe I had never been the true beneficiary.
Noah reached into his coat.
He pulled out a folder.
Inside was an original legal document.
Richard Bennett Family Trust.
Beneficiary:
Laura Marie Bennett.
Secondary beneficiary:
Noah Richard Cross.
Tertiary beneficiary:
Emily Cross.
But there was a handwritten amendment.
It had been added one month before Dad died.
Primary beneficiary:
Laura Marie Bennett.
Upon death or incapacity, assets transfer jointly to Laura Bennett and Noah Cross.
I stared at the page.
“Noah.”
“Yes.”
“You were supposed to inherit with me.”
“Correct.”
“Why didn’t Mom tell me?”
“Because if you knew, you’d have looked for me.”
The document included another page.
A distribution schedule.
Property.
Business accounts.
Investment funds.
Insurance policies.
Total estimated value:
$4.8 million.
I felt dizzy.
“That’s why.”
Noah nodded.
“She needed you to keep working.”
“Why?”
“Because the trust was frozen.”
“What?”
“After Dad died, the legal executor had to verify both beneficiaries.”
“But my mother became executor.”
“No.”
I looked up.
“No?”
“No. Your father named someone else.”
“Who?”
Noah looked at me.
“You.”
The room went silent.
I shook my head.
“I was eighteen.”
“You were legally old enough.”
“But I never received anything.”
“Because you never claimed it.”
“Why?”
Noah gave me a folder.
Inside were four letters.
All addressed to me.
All from a lawyer.
First letter:
We have attempted to contact you regarding the Richard Bennett Family Trust.
Second:
Urgent response requested.
Third:
Final Notice.
Fourth:
Because no response was received, management of trust assets has been suspended pending identification of the beneficiaries.
I stared.
“I never received these.”
“I know.”
“How?”
Noah handed me another document.
A forwarding request.
My mother’s handwriting.
Mail forwarding from my address to hers.
Date:
Three weeks after Dad’s funeral.
I felt physically sick.
“She intercepted them.”
Noah nodded.
“She took your mail.”
“For years?”
“For five years.”
Evan looked at Mom’s history on his phone.
“Then what happened after that?”
Noah answered.
“She liquidated assets.”
“Can she do that?”
“She did.”
“How much?”
“Approximately four million.”
Nobody spoke.
Four million dollars.
Taken from a trust in my name.
And possibly his.
I looked at the dining room.
At the cake.
At the twenty chairs.
At all the years I had worked harder and harder trying to keep everyone happy.
My mother hadn’t needed a daughter.
She needed a shield.
She needed someone she could use while everyone else blamed that person for whatever went wrong.
Then Noah leaned forward.
“There’s one problem.”
“What?”
“The trust wasn’t her biggest secret.”
He opened the final page.
It contained a handwritten note from Dad.
If Laura ever learns the truth, tell her about the hospital.
I looked at him.
“What happened at the hospital?”
Noah’s expression changed.
“I was there.”
“You?”
“That night.”
“You were an adult?”
“I was thirteen.”
My skin prickled.
“You were the boy in the hospital?”
He nodded.
“Dad was alive when I left.”
“How long?”
“About ten minutes before 9 p.m.”
“He died at 9:12.”
“Yes.”
“Who was with him?”
Noah looked directly at me.
“Your mother.”
“And?”
He hesitated.
“Another man.”
“Ray?”
“Yes.”
“What did they do?”
Noah’s jaw tightened.
“I heard your father shouting.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Angela, if you sign that, Laura will never forgive you.’”
I felt my heart pounding.
“What did Mom sign?”
Noah looked at me.
“A document transferring control of the trust.”
My breath caught.
“Did Dad sign it?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
May you like
Noah’s answer came quietly.
“You did.”
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