Chapter 11 - THE ORIGINALS
The truth had been locked away from all of us
Marcus called from the office.
His voice was barely audible.
“I found the original deed.”
“To what?”
“The trust properties.”
“Where?”
“Dad's private safe.”
My heart hammered.
“Take pictures.”
“I already did.”
“Send them.”
A second later, my phone filled with images.
Original deeds.
Trust certificates.
Bank correspondence.
A handwritten ledger.
And one document with a red stamp.
REVOCATION OF BENEFICIARY RIGHTS.
I zoomed in.
My father's name.
My grandmother's signature.
A date.
Seven years after her death.
I frowned.
“This is impossible.”
My attorney looked at the image.
“Yes.”
“Grandma couldn't sign something seven years after she died.”
She stared at me.
“That signature is forged.”
I felt cold.
Then I saw another signature.
Mine.
“That's not mine.”
“No.”
My attorney's expression changed.
“This is bigger than the lake house.”
Marcus sent another image.
It was a bank statement.
A transfer from a trust account into a shell company.
Then another.
And another.
Millions.
Not hundreds of thousands.
Millions.
My father had been moving family assets for years.
Marcus had inherited some of the company's debt.
He hadn't just been irresponsible.
He had been used.
The final photograph was blurry.
A handwritten note rested beside the ledger.
My father had written:
Once Bella signs, everything becomes clean.
My attorney stared at it.
“That's your evidence.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“What?”
“It gets worse.”
I opened the last image.
At the bottom of the page was another name.
Janice Miller.
The notary.
Not as a witness.
As a recipient.
She had received payments.
Repeated payments.
Over several months.
We finally had a chain.
Father.
Mother.
Marcus.
Notary.
Shell company.
Lender.
And me.
The fake version of me.
I sat down.
“Are we done?”
My attorney shook her head.
“No.”
“What now?”
“There is still one unknown.”
“Who owns the shell company?”
I stared.
“Can we trace it?”
“Yes.”
She started typing.
Five minutes later, she stopped.
“Bella.”
“What?”
“You need to see this.”
The shell company owner was a trust.
A private trust.
The trustee was listed as Richard Hail.
I looked at Richard.
My attorney called him.
No answer.
I called again.
Nothing.
My pulse raced.
“Could he be involved?”
“I don't know.”
That terrified me.
Because there was one thing I hadn't considered.
What if Richard had returned for more than the truth?
What if he wanted control too?
The next morning, I met him at the boathouse.
He was waiting.
I held up the document.
“Your name is on the shell company.”
He looked at it.
Then laughed.
“You finally found it.”
My stomach dropped.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your father wanted you to think I was behind it.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“Then why is your name there?”
“Because the trust was designed to protect the assets from your father.”
“Why did you let him think you were gone?”
“Because it was the only way to survive him.”
I stared.
Richard reached into his coat.
He pulled out a sealed envelope.
“This was supposed to be delivered to you after your grandmother died.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because your father intercepted it.”
He handed it to me.
I opened it.
The first page had my grandmother's signature.
The second page had a handwritten instruction.
If Isabella is ever threatened by her father, Richard is authorized to act as temporary trustee.
I looked up.
“Temporary trustee?”
“Yes.”
“Until when?”
“Until you take control.”
I stared.
“Then why haven't you?”
Richard smiled sadly.
“Because I've been waiting for you to choose yourself.”
I swallowed.
Then he said the words that changed everything.
May you like
“You're not fighting your family over a house.”
“You're fighting them over control of everything your grandmother built.”
