Chapter 3: The Man in the Video
Nobody moved.
The wineglass my mother had dropped was still on the floor, the stem snapped clean, a dark stain spreading slowly across the rug.
Nobody looked at it.
I looked at my mother.
"What does she mean the will was never read?"
My mother's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
"Mom."
"Daniel, this isn't the time—"
"Dad died four years ago." My voice came out flat.
"I stood at his graveside.
I watched them lower the casket.
You told me there was no will.
You told me he died without one."
She looked away.
"There was a will," Vanessa said.
"Stop talking." My mother's voice cracked like a whip.
Vanessa didn't stop.
"There was a will, Daniel.
Your father wrote it eight months before he passed.
He left the house to you.
Not jointly.
Not in trust.
To you and Noah specifically, by name."
The room felt like it had tilted.
"How do you know that?"
"Because the man in the video is Martin Greer." She said the name like it meant something.
"He was your father's estate attorney.
He's also been my contact for the past two years."
I turned to my mother.
"You hired his attorney?"
She sat down heavily on the arm of the sofa.
"It wasn't like that."
"Then tell me what it was like."
She pressed her fingers to her lips.
Her hand was shaking.
"Your father wanted to leave everything to you.
The house, the savings account, the investment portfolio.
All of it." She paused.
"I convinced Martin to delay the filing.
Just delay it.
While I sorted things out."
"Sorted what out?"
"I had debts, Daniel." Her voice dropped.
"Debts your father didn't know about.
If the will had gone through probate immediately, the estate would have been frozen while the court processed it.
I needed access to the accounts.
Just temporarily."
"How temporarily?"
She didn't answer.
"Mom.
How much?"
"Two hundred and forty thousand dollars."
The number landed like something physical.
Noah was still sitting on the floor beside me, the old phone in his lap.
He was watching my mother with the same careful, quiet attention he had been giving Vanessa all evening.
I put my hand on his shoulder without thinking.
"So the will was suppressed," I said.
"For four years.
And Vanessa knew."
"Vanessa found out," my mother said quickly.
"That's different."
"Is it?" I looked at Vanessa.
"How did you find out?"
Vanessa's expression had shifted.
The panic from earlier was gone.
She looked almost composed now, which was worse.
"Martin approached me," she said.
"About eighteen months ago.
He'd been carrying this for years and he was scared.
The delay had gone on too long.
He needed someone who could get close to you without raising suspicion."
"Get close to me." I repeated the words slowly.
"You were placed."
"It wasn't—" She stopped.
Started again.
"It started that way.
But Daniel, I—"
"Don't." I held up one hand.
"Don't tell me it became real.
Don't tell me your feelings changed.
I don't want to hear it."
She closed her mouth.
I looked at my mother again.
"Where is the will now?"
She looked at Vanessa.
Vanessa looked at the floor.
"Martin has the original," Vanessa said quietly.
"But there's a copy."
"Where?"
She reached into her bag slowly, like she was moving through water, and placed a folded envelope on the coffee table between us.
I didn't pick it up yet.
"Why are you giving me this now?"
"Because it was always going to end tonight," she said.
"I just didn't expect it to end like this."
Noah leaned against my arm.
I picked up the envelope.
Inside was a single document, four pages, with my father's signature at the bottom of the last page.
His handwriting.
His name.
The date: March 14th, nearly five years ago.
I read the first paragraph.
Then I looked up at my mother.
She already knew what it said.
May you like
"There's more," Vanessa said softly.
"Martin isn't the only person who knew."
