Chapter 7: Rebecca Makes Her Move
The lawyer's name was Patricia Osei.
Ethan had found her through a colleague — a family and estate attorney with a reputation, he said, for not being easily impressed by people who thought their money made them untouchable.
We met her on a Thursday afternoon in an office that smelled like coffee and old carpet.
She read the documents Ethan had printed.
She asked four questions.
She did not react dramatically to anything, which I found more reassuring than if she had.
"The 2006 declaration is the key document," she said.
"If it can be shown that Daniel Whitmore knowingly misrepresented his dependent status to satisfy a trust condition, that's fraud against the estate.
The trust beneficiaries — which would include any legal dependents — would have standing to challenge it."
"Ethan is his son," I said.
"I have his birth certificate.
Daniel is named on it."
"He is?"
"He was there when Ethan was born.
He left two years later.
But he's on the certificate."
Patricia made a note.
"That matters.
A named parent on a birth certificate, combined with a signed declaration stating no living dependents, is a very clear contradiction." She looked at Ethan.
"How old were you in 2006?"
"Fifteen."
"And you had no contact with him after he left?"
"None."
"Did he ever pay child support?"
I shook my head.
"I tried once, when Ethan was eight.
My attorney at the time said Daniel had left the state and couldn't be located.
I couldn't afford to keep pursuing it."
Patricia wrote something else down.
"He was locatable," she said.
"He was running a business under his own name in Connecticut by 2004." She said it without inflection, but the meaning landed clearly enough.
He hadn't been missing.
He had been hiding.
"What about Rebecca?" Ethan asked.
"She witnessed the declaration."
"Witnessing a document doesn't automatically make someone liable for its contents.
But if she knew the declaration was false — if she knew you existed — that's a different matter.
That could constitute knowing participation in a fraudulent filing." Patricia set her pen down.
"Do you have any evidence she knew about Ethan before 2006?"
Ethan and I looked at each other.
"Not yet," he said.
"Then that's what we need." She closed the folder.
"I want to be honest with you both.
This is not a simple case.
Daniel Whitmore has resources.
He will fight this.
Rebecca will almost certainly deny any knowledge.
The legal process will take time and it will not be comfortable." She looked at me directly.
"But the foundation is solid.
The birth certificate, the declaration, the timeline — it holds together."
We thanked her.
We took our copies.
We walked out into the afternoon.
On the pavement outside, Ethan stopped.
"She's going to find out we went to a lawyer," he said.
"Rebecca?"
"She has to.
The moment we file anything, it becomes discoverable.
She'll know."
"I know."
"Are you ready for that?"
I thought about the dinner table.
The wine glass.
The smile that didn't reach her eyes.
The way she had looked me up and down before she spoke.
"She made her move first," I said.
"She invited me into her house and spent an entire evening trying to make me feel like I didn't belong anywhere near her family.
And all along, she knew exactly who I was."
Ethan was quiet.
"I'm ready," I said.
We didn't have to wait long.
Two days later, Sophie called Ethan, her voice tight and confused.
"My mother wants to meet with you," she told him.
"Alone.
She says it's urgent and that it's about the wedding."
May you like
Ethan looked at me across my kitchen table.
"Tell her I'll be there Saturday," he said.
