Chapter 6: The Second Will
I read Robert's note three times.
Martin knows where the second will is.
For several seconds, the words seemed to lose their meaning.
Martin Ellison had been Robert's attorney for twenty-two years.
He had handled our property purchases, corporate filings, tax matters, and estate planning.
He had stood beside me at Robert's funeral.
He had held my hand when he delivered the will.
And now I was looking at a document suggesting he knew something about a second will.
Evelyn pulled the folder closer.
"Let me see.""
I handed it to her.
She examined the transfer record.
"This is troubling.""
"Could Martin have been involved in the account?""
"Possibly. But we need evidence before making that conclusion.""
I pointed to the handwritten note.
"Robert believed he knew where the second will was.""
Evelyn nodded.
"Then we ask him.""
I shook my head.
"Not yet.""
"Why?""
"Because if Martin is involved, calling him now would give him time to destroy whatever remains.""
Evelyn studied me.
"You're thinking like a litigator again.""
"I never stopped thinking like one.""
We copied every document in the vault, leaving the originals secured at the bank.
Then we arranged for the external drive to be examined by a digital forensic specialist.
Before leaving, I opened the second folder.
It contained bank statements from the undisclosed account.
The transactions were more extensive than I expected.
There were payments to shell companies, consulting firms, and several private accounts.
But one series of transfers caught my attention.
Every month, exactly $35,000 had been sent to an account registered to Gregory.
For thirty-four months.
I calculated the total.
$1,190,000.
I turned the statement toward Evelyn.
"That's not a consulting fee.""
"No," she said quietly.
"It's not.""
Then I noticed another entry.
A payment of $250,000.
The description read:
*M.H. LEGAL SERVICES.*
Evelyn leaned closer.
"That's Martin's firm.""
I felt the room tilt slightly.
My husband's attorney had received a quarter of a million dollars from an account funded through questionable transfers.
I closed the folder.
"We're going to need another attorney.""
That evening, I sat in my living room with a cup of tea I barely touched.
I kept thinking about the second will.
Why had Robert created another one?
Was the first will genuine?
Had the second will replaced it?
Or was it something entirely different?
At seven thirty, the doorbell rang.
Patricia stood outside.
She wasn't wearing her usual designer clothes.
Her hair was pulled back, and her eyes were swollen.
"Can I come in?""
I hesitated.
Then I stepped aside.
She walked into the living room and looked around.
Her eyes settled on her father's photograph.
"God, I miss him.""
I didn't answer.
She sat on the sofa.
For a few seconds, she seemed like the little girl who used to climb into my lap after a nightmare.
Then she looked at me.
"Mom, Gregory says you're meeting with Eleanor.""
I set my cup down.
"How does Gregory know that?""
"She called him.""
"Why would she do that?""
"Because she's trying to protect herself.""
"From what?""
Patricia rubbed her forehead.
"She stole money from Dad.""
I watched her carefully.
"How much?""
"I don't know.""
"Do you know about the $4.8 million?""
Her eyes moved toward the window.
"I know Dad had an account.""
"Did you know Gregory was receiving money from it?""
She shook her head too quickly.
"Not like that.""
"What does that mean?""
"He said it was business money.""
"Which business?""
"I don't know.""
"Patricia, you are forty-one years old. You signed financial documents. You received transfers. You knew there was an account.""
Her voice rose.
"Dad was helping us!""
"Then why did he create a separate authorization naming an independent trust administrator?""
She looked at me sharply.
"Where did you see that?""
I didn't answer.
She stood.
"Mom, you have no idea what you're getting into.""
"Then explain it to me.""
"Gregory was trying to keep the company stable.""
"By transferring millions of dollars?""
"He said Dad approved it.""
"Did you see him approve it?""
Patricia's face tightened.
She looked down at her hands.
Then she said something that made my stomach turn.
"I signed what Gregory put in front of me.""
I remained still.
"Even the documents bearing my signature?""
She closed her eyes.
"I didn't know those were fake.""
"How did you know my signature was fake?""
She opened her eyes.
And I saw it.
Fear.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Fear.
"Mom, I didn't mean for this to happen.""
I stood.
"Patricia, what exactly did you do?""
She began crying.
"I only wanted Dad to help us.""
"With what?""
She shook her head.
"Gregory had debts.""
"How much?""
"I don't know.""
"How much, Patricia?""
She wiped her face.
"More than three million dollars.""
I stared at her.
"What?""
"He had investments that went bad. He borrowed money. He thought he could recover it.""
"From whom?""
"Private lenders.""
"And he used your father's company to pay them?""
She nodded.
I felt my chest tighten.
"Did your father know?""
"He found out.""
"When?""
"Last year.""
"What happened?""
Patricia looked toward the staircase.
"He told Gregory to repay everything.""
"And?""
"He couldn't.""
I sat down slowly.
"Then why did you sue me?""
She started crying harder.
"Because Gregory said the estate was the only way we could fix it.""
I stared at my daughter.
"Fix what?""
"Our debts.""
There it was.
The real reason.
The vacation house.
The estate.
The conservatorship.
It had never been about concern for me.
It had been about money.
I asked Patricia to leave.
She refused at first.
"Mom, please. You have to understand. Gregory said if we didn't get control of the estate, we'd lose everything.""
"Then perhaps you should have thought about that before trying to take it from me.""
"He said Dad wanted me to have the money.""
"Your father left you a trust for your children.""
"That's not enough!""
The words came out so quickly that she seemed surprised by them herself.
I stared at her.
"Not enough?""
She looked away.
"I didn't mean—"
"Your father left you something designed to protect your children. He left you a lifetime of memories. He left you opportunities he never had.""
I paused.
"And you decided that wasn't enough.""
She covered her face.
I walked toward the front door and opened it.
"Go home, Patricia.""
She stood in the hallway.
"You're choosing money over your daughter.""
I looked at her.
"No. I'm choosing the truth over a lie.""
She left.
But before getting into her car, she turned around.
"Gregory will never let you win.""
I watched her drive away.
Then I closed the door.
My hands were shaking.
Not because I feared Gregory.
Because I was beginning to understand how far my daughter had gone.
The next morning, Evelyn called.
"There's something you need to see.""
She had received preliminary findings from the digital forensic specialist.
The external drive contained years of emails, spreadsheets, scanned documents, and voice recordings.
One folder was labeled:
*ROBERT — PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE.*
I drove to her office immediately.
She was waiting with the laptop open.
"Listen to this.""
She clicked a file.
Robert's voice filled the room.
He sounded tired, but unmistakably like himself.
"Gregory, I know about the transfers. I know the reports are false. I know Patricia signed documents she didn't understand. You need to stop immediately.""
A second voice answered.
Gregory.
"Robert, you're making a mistake. These are temporary arrangements.""
"They're not temporary when money disappears.""
"We're family.""
"Then stop treating my company like your personal bank account.""
There was a pause.
Then Gregory said something that made me grip the desk.
"Patricia is entitled to her inheritance.""
Robert's voice became colder.
"Her inheritance is not yours to spend.""
"She'll get everything eventually.""
"Not if I have anything to say about it.""
The recording ended.
Evelyn paused the file.
I couldn't speak.
She opened another document.
It was an email dated four months before Robert died.
The sender was Martin Ellison.
The recipient was Gregory.
The subject line read:
*ESTATE REVISION.*
I leaned closer.
The email contained only three sentences.
The revised documents are prepared. The original instructions remain in the vault.
Do not discuss the second will with Dorothy.
We need to ensure the first version remains effective until the appropriate time.
I read it again.
Then a third time.
"Martin helped Gregory hide the second will.""
Evelyn nodded.
"It appears so.""
"Why?""
"We don't know yet.""
I stared at the screen.
Then I noticed the date.
The email had been sent just two weeks after Robert's final estate planning meeting.
I remembered that meeting.
Robert had returned home unusually quiet.
When I asked whether everything was all right, he told me he had updated some documents.
I had assumed he meant routine paperwork.
Now I understood that he had been trying to change something important.
"Can we find the second will?"" I asked.
Evelyn closed the email.
"We have a lead.""
"What?""
"Martin's office.""
I shook my head.
"That would be the first place Gregory would search.""
"Not necessarily.""
She turned the laptop toward me.
The specialist had found a scanned receipt attached to one of Robert's emails.
It was from a private document-storage company.
The receipt listed a sealed legal package deposited six months before Robert died.
The storage location was a secure facility outside Boston.
The authorized recipient was listed as:
*DOROTHY MITCHELL.*
I stared at my maiden name.
Robert had used it deliberately.
Evelyn looked at me.
"Do you have any idea why?""
I shook my head.
"No.""
Then my phone rang.
Martin Ellison.
I answered.
"Dorothy, we need to talk.""
His voice sounded strained.
"About what, Martin?""
"Your husband left some documents in my possession.""
I looked at Evelyn.
"What documents?""
He hesitated.
Then he said:
"The second will.""
I stood.
"Where is it?""
"I'd rather discuss this in person.""
"Why didn't you tell me about it earlier?""
"Because I was instructed not to.""
"By whom?""
There was a long silence.
Finally, Martin said:
"By Robert.""
I closed my eyes.
"Then why are you calling me now?""
His answer was almost a whisper.
"Because Gregory knows where it is, and he's coming to get it.""
I looked at Evelyn.
"When?""
Martin swallowed.
"He's already here.""
The call ended.
And before I could move, another message appeared on my phone.
It was from an unknown number.
A photograph.
Martin's office door stood open.
A man was entering.
Gregory.
May you like
Beneath the photograph were seven words.
*Your daughter is not the only one involved.*
