Chapter 3 - A WEDDING GIFT MADE OF LIES
The memory card sat on Adrian's palm like a coin too small to purchase anything.
Yet every Caldwell in the corridor stared at it as though it could burn the building down.
"Hand it over," Grant ordered.
Nathan shook his head.
"I'm not giving you anything until I know why Claire's signature is on that document."
Sloane seized his wrist.
"We just got married. Are you really choosing my sister over me?"
"I'm choosing not to ignore a forgery."
The word seemed to strike Marlene physically.
She took one step backward and leaned against the wall.
I should have felt triumph, but I felt something more disturbing.
Every person in that corridor except Adrian appeared to know a piece of my life I had never been allowed to see.
"Did Dad leave me a trust?" I asked my mother.
She stared at my polished shoes.
"Your father left us complicated problems."
"Answer the question."
"He left obligations," she snapped. "Debts. Taxes. Things you were too young to understand."
"Then why did you tell me he left nothing?"
Grant's voice acquired its smooth business cadence.
"Because technically the estate was underwater when he died."
"Technically," Adrian repeated.
"You heard me."
"Then the trust and company interests should have accounting records."
Grant glanced at Nathan, who was visibly recording with his phone.
"We should continue with counsel present," Grant said.
"That is the first sensible thing you've said," Adrian answered.
Marlene suddenly advanced toward me.
"I sacrificed everything after your father died. You have no right to interrogate me during your sister's wedding."
I held her gaze.
"You put me under a spotlight to call me worthless. You don't get to complain about timing."
Behind her, a door swung open.
A waiter looked from one face to another and retreated without a word.
Sloane pushed past me toward the ballroom.
"Fine," she cried. "If Claire wants a scene, I'll give her one."
We heard her heels strike the marble, then her voice seize the microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen, apparently my stepsister is accusing my parents of stealing from her."
A terrible silence followed.
I opened the door.
Two hundred faces turned toward us again.
Sloane pointed with a trembling hand.
"She couldn't stand one evening not being about her."
Nathan entered beside me.
"Stop lying," he said.
The room recoiled from the groom's voice.
Sloane looked at him in disbelief.
"Nathan?"
"I found documents tonight. The signature appears false. We need an investigation, not another speech."
Marlene moved toward the microphone, but a silver-haired woman rose from a table near the stage.
"I remember Daniel Bennett's will," she said.
Grant went white.
The woman introduced herself as Eleanor Price, retired probate clerk.
"And if what I'm hearing is true," she continued, "someone should ask why a sealed inventory was never filed."
She reached into her handbag.
May you like
"I kept a copy of the receipt."
