Chapter 3 - The Person Grandma FearedMy mother didn't recognize the number.
Neither did I.
But whoever had sent the message knew exactly what we had done.
That meant someone was watching us.
I locked the apartment door.
Then the deadbolt.
“Mom, tell me everything.”
“I've told you everything.”
“No.”
She looked away.
“Ryan…”
“You knew about the envelope.”
“I knew Grandma gave you something.”
“You knew about the bank.”
“I didn't.”
“You knew Chris was involved.”
She hesitated.
That was enough.
“What aren't you telling me?”
Her lips trembled.
“I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of your grandmother.”
That answer hit harder than I expected.
“You were scared of Grandma?”
“She changed after your aunt died.”
I sat down.
“What happened to Aunt Claire?”
My mother stared at the floor.
“She was supposed to inherit everything.”
“What?”
“Not officially. Not on paper. But everyone knew.”
“Then why didn't she?”
“She disappeared from Grandma's life.”
“Why?”
My mother took a deep breath.
“She found out about the money.”
“What money?”
“The money your grandmother made before she bought this house.”
I frowned.
“Grandma ran a bakery.”
“That’s what she told people.”
My mother walked to the window.
“She had investments.”
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
“Mom.”
“I really don't.”
My phone buzzed.
Christopher.
I answered.
“Did you get the message?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“It means the trap is moving faster than I expected.”
“Who sent it?”
“I don't know.”
“Can you trace it?”
“Not yet.”
I looked at Mom.
“What happened to Claire?”
Christopher was silent.
My mother finally answered.
“Claire discovered a private account.”
“What account?”
“An account your grandmother never reported to anyone.”
“For what?”
My mother swallowed.
“Family money.”
“That explains nothing.”
“It was money your great-grandfather set aside.”
“How much?”
She whispered:
“Enough to buy the house ten times.”
My pulse jumped.
“How much, Mom?”
“Over eight million dollars.”
Silence.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
“Grandma had eight million dollars?”
“Maybe more.”
“And Ben knew?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at Christopher.
“Where is it?”
“I don't know.”
“Then what does Ben actually own?”
“That is the question.”
Christopher's voice became deliberate.
“Ryan, your grandmother separated the physical property from the financial assets.”
“What does that mean?”
“She transferred the house under one structure and the money under another.”
“Trusts?”
“Yes.”
“Who was the trustee?”
Christopher paused.
“Claire.”
My mother gasped.
“But Claire is dead.”
“Exactly,” Christopher said.
“So who took over?”
Another pause.
“Your grandmother appointed a successor.”
“Who?”
Christopher finally answered.
“Ben.”
I stood.
“You're telling me Grandma gave Ben control?”
“Only if a specific condition occurred.”
“What condition?”
“A hostile claim against the house.”
I stared at the floor.
“That sounds insane.”
“Your grandmother designed it that way.”
“Why?”
“Because she wanted to see whether Ben would attack the property.”
“What happens if he does?”
Christopher's voice was almost a whisper.
“He loses everything.”
My mother sat down.
“I don't understand.”
“Neither does Ben.”
I suddenly understood the meaning of the note.
Let him think he has won.
“Christopher,” I said.
“Yes?”
“What exactly did Ben trigger?”
He replied:
“A clause I drafted myself.”
My heart pounded.
“A clause that transfers control of the trust?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“It transfers the trust's assets away from him.”
“To who?”
There was a long pause.
“You.”
My mother covered her mouth.
I couldn't speak.
Then someone knocked on the apartment door.
Three slow knocks.
Christopher heard it.
“Don't answer.”
The knocking came again.
Three times.
Then a man's voice came through the door.
“Ryan.”
I froze.
I knew that voice.
Ben.
“Open the door.”
I looked through the peephole.
He was standing alone.
No suit jacket.
No smile.
No bourbon.
Just fear.
He held up his phone.
“Your cousin has a problem.”
I didn't open the door.
“What problem?”
He looked directly at the peephole.
“Someone just froze my bank accounts.”
My heart stopped.
Ben stared at the door.
“And Ryan?”
He raised something in his other hand.
A photograph.
“Our grandmother left a message for you.”
He slid it under the door.
I picked it up.
May you like
On the back was one sentence.
THE NEXT PERSON WILL BE YOUR MOTHER.
