Chapter 3: What the Will Actually Said
Ethan stared at my phone screen.
Diane's name glowing.
Neither of us moved.
"Don't answer it," I said.
He picked it up anyway.
"Mom."
I could hear her voice through the speaker, bright and casual, like she was calling about Sunday dinner.
"I just wanted to check in.
Make sure everything's okay after last night."
"Where is it, Mom?"
A pause.
"Where is what, sweetheart?"
"The envelope.
From our closet."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"We have camera footage." His voice didn't shake.
I hadn't expected that.
"We can see you going in.
We can see you coming out with a bag."
Silence.
Then: "That footage could mean anything."
"Mom."
"I was dropping something off.
I didn't go near your bedroom."
Ethan looked at me.
I shook my head slowly.
"Stop lying to me," he said.
"What does the original will say that's different from the version you showed us?"
The line went quiet for a long time.
"Ethan, I think you need to calm down before we have this conversation."
"I am calm.
Answer the question."
"Your grandfather was not well when he wrote that document.
He was confused.
He didn't understand what he was signing."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer that matters.
That version of the will is not valid.
It never was."
He stood up from the bed.
"Then why did you take it?"
She didn't answer that.
"Mom.
Why did you take it?"
"I'm trying to protect this family."
"From what?"
"From a mistake your grandfather made when he wasn't in his right mind." Her voice shifted.
Softer.
More careful.
"Ethan.
Everything I've done has been for you.
For your future.
For your children's future."
I watched his jaw tighten.
"Don't," he said quietly.
"I'm your mother."
"I know who you are." He ended the call.
He set the phone on the dresser and stood with his back to me for a moment.
"Ethan." I touched his shoulder.
"What does the original will say?"
He turned around.
His eyes were tired in a way I hadn't seen before.
"My grandfather had three children.
My mother, my uncle Roy, and my aunt Patricia.
When he died, my mother presented a will that left the estate — the house, the land, the savings — split between her and Roy.
Patricia got nothing.
A few hundred dollars and some personal items."
I stared at him.
"Why?"
"My mother told everyone that Patricia had been estranged.
That Grandpa had cut her out years before he died.
That it was his decision and she had nothing to do with it."
"And the original will?"
He sat back down on the bed.
"The original will splits everything three ways.
Equally.
Patricia gets her full share."
The room was very quiet.
"How much are we talking about?"
"The house alone is worth close to four hundred thousand.
The land behind it, another hundred and fifty.
There's savings on top of that."
I sat down beside him.
"Ethan.
Your aunt Patricia.
Where is she now?"
"She moved away after the estate was settled.
She didn't fight it.
She just — left." He rubbed his face with both hands.
"She thought her father had chosen to cut her out.
She thought he didn't love her."
My chest hurt.
"She's been living with that for how long?"
"Eleven years."
I looked at the empty closet shelf.
At the space where the envelope had been.
"We need to get that document back."
"I know."
"And we need to find Patricia."
He looked at me.
Something shifted in his face.
Not relief exactly.
More like the moment before a very long, very necessary fight begins.
"I have her number," he said.
"I never deleted it."
His phone buzzed on the dresser.
A text from Diane.
*I think we should meet.
Just the two of us.
Tomorrow.
I can explain everything.*
May you like
I read it over his shoulder.
"Don't go alone," I said.
