I caught my husband sleeping with my brother’s wife, so I quietly swapped the lubricant in his bag for industrial glue.
“What?”
“The shell companies receiving the transferred assets aren’t ultimately connected to Serena’s family.”
“Then who owns them?”
“There are multiple layers, but the final beneficiary appears to be a private trust registered in South Dakota.”
“Whose trust?”
Mara paused.
“It’s called the Evelyn Vance Legacy Trust.”
My mother’s name.
The room went silent.
My mother had d/i/e/d when I was fourteen.
At least, that was what I had been told.
A car had gone off a mountain road during a snowstorm. The vehicle was recovered, badly damaged. My father had refused to let Brandon or me attend the identification.
He said he wanted us to remember her as she had been.
For twenty years, I had believed him.
I gripped the phone.
“Mara, find every document connected to that trust.”
“We’re already working on it.”
“And don’t contact my father.”
“I understand.”
I ended the call.
Brandon looked shaken.
“Why would Dad name a secret trust after Mom?”
Julian’s face had become unreadable.
I turned toward him.
“You knew about the trust.”
“No.”
“You reacted before Mara finished.”
Julian looked away.
I lowered my voice.
“What do you know?”
He stared at the blanket for a long time.
Then he whispered, “Your mother’s d/e/@/th certificate was never filed in Colorado.”
My heart seemed to stop.
Brandon grabbed the edge of the bedside table.
“What?”
“I found out by accident,” Julian said. “Arthur had me retrieve old documents from a private storage facility. There was no official certificate. Only a court order declaring her legally d/e/@/d seven years after she disappeared.”
Disappeared.
Not d/i/e/d.
The difference was only one word, yet it shattered twenty years of my life.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
Julian’s breathing quickened.
“I swear. Arthur never told me.”
“Did he believe she was alive?”
“Yes.”
