Chương 9
“You were the one asking.”
“Yes, and I’m done.”
He looked around the room, anger returning now that fear had somewhere to hide.
“This has nothing to do with Dad’s will.”
Samuel opened the folder again.
“It may not.”
“Then why are we discussing it?”
“Because motive and timing may become relevant if you contest the codicil.”
Curtis stared at him.
“You’re threatening me.”
“No.”
Samuel’s voice stayed level.
“I am describing litigation.”
That word changed the room.
Litigation sounded different from argument.
It had weight.
Time.
Invoices.
Depositions.
Records.
Strangers asking questions under oath.
Curtis seemed to hear all of that too.
He sat back and pressed both hands flat against his thighs.
Melissa turned to me.
“You should not communicate with Curtis about the estate without counsel present.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“And you should preserve every text, email, voicemail, financial notification, and document connected to the separation.”
Curtis laughed bitterly.
“Great.”
She ignored him.
“If you have old phones, cloud backups, bank alerts, anything like that, preserve them.”
I nodded.
Samuel slid a business card toward me.
“This attorney handles trust and family-property disputes.”
Curtis looked at the card.
“Of course you already have someone lined up.”
Samuel’s eyes moved to him.
“I also have three names prepared for you if Ms. Ward determines separate litigation counsel is appropriate.”
That silenced him.
Melissa gathered her papers.
“I’m going to speak with my client.”
Curtis stood immediately.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“No?”
“I want to talk to Vanessa first.”
“You have already talked too much.”
His face tightened.
“I am not a child.”
“Then stop behaving like one.”
The words came out more sharply than I expected from her.
Curtis stared at her.
Melissa inhaled through her nose and lowered her voice.
“Conference room across the hall.”
He hesitated.
Then he followed her out.
The door closed behind them.
Samuel waited until we could no longer hear their footsteps.
Then he leaned back in his chair.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
The quiet was almost worse.
I sat down.
“My husband was waiting for his father to die so he could divorce me without risking the inheritance.”
Samuel removed his glasses.
“Yes.”
The answer was too simple.
I stared at the empty chair beside me.
“How long did Arthur know?”
Samuel rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“He suspected for some time.”
“About Erica?”
“No.”
“About the divorce?”
“Yes.”
A bitter laugh slipped out.
“Everyone knew except me.”
“No.”
Samuel put his glasses back on.
“Arthur suspected.”
“You knew.”
“I knew Arthur was concerned.”
“You helped him write the clause.”
“I helped him express what he wanted.”
“Which was to test Curtis.”
Samuel considered that.
“Partly.”
I shook my head.
“I hate that.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean I really hate it.”
My voice rose despite myself.
“I was living in that house thinking we were a family while Arthur was setting some trap and Curtis was waiting for him to die.”
Samuel did not defend either man.
That made me angrier.
“I cooked for them.”
My eyes burned.
“I scheduled Arthur’s appointments.”
I laughed again, and this time it sounded close to crying.
“I spent two hours arguing with an insurance company over a wheelchair cushion while these two men were privately measuring my marriage against seventy-five million dollars.”
Samuel looked down at the table.
“You deserved better.”
“I don’t need that sentence.”
He nodded once.
“You’re right.”
I pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead.
The room smelled faintly of coffee and printer paper.
Somewhere beyond the wall, a copier started running.
Ordinary office sounds.
I wondered how many people nearby were discussing leases, divorces, payroll, things that would matter enormously to them and not at all to anyone else.
“Why didn’t Arthur tell me?”
Samuel answered slowly.
“He thought if you knew, you would confront Curtis.”
“He was right.”
“He also thought you might leave before he died.”
I looked at him.
“That’s insulting.”
“I told him so.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Samuel’s mouth moved slightly.
“He said you had terrible taste in husbands and excessive loyalty to old men.”
Despite everything, a laugh escaped me.
It hurt.
Arthur would have said exactly that.
I wiped beneath one eye.
“Idiot.”
“Yes.”
Samuel’s voice softened.
“He could be.”
The anger loosened just enough for grief to come through.
I folded Arthur’s letter once more even though it did not need folding.
“What happens now?”
“You retain counsel.”
“And then?”
“If Curtis contests the triggering provision, he may challenge its interpretation, validity, execution, or Arthur’s capacity.”
“Was Arthur competent?”
“Yes.”
“You sound very certain.”
“I was present when the codicil was executed.”
“Who else?”
“Two independent witnesses and a notary.”
“Medical records?”
“Arthur anticipated the challenge.”
Of course he had.
The old man had spent forty years assuming every contract would eventually meet an enemy.
Samuel continued.
“His oncologist documented his cognitive condition during the same period, although the physician did not participate in drafting the estate documents.”
“So Curtis can’t win.”
“I did not say that.”
I looked at him.
“Legal disputes are uncertain.”
“You just said Arthur was competent.”
“He was.”
“Then why would Curtis win?”
“Because courts do not operate on my confidence.”
Samuel tapped the edge of the folder.
“Facts can be disputed.”
“Even obvious ones?”
“Especially expensive ones.”
I looked toward the door.
“What would happen if I refused the money?”
Samuel watched me carefully.
“You mean disclaimed your interest?”
“Yes.”
“That would depend on the terms of the trust and the timing.”
“Would Curtis get it?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“Arthur specifically prevented that result.”
I gave a small, humorless smile.
“Of course he did.”
“If you disclaim, the property would likely pass according to the alternate charitable provisions, subject to formal review.”
“So there is no way for me to give it back to Curtis.”
“Not through a simple disclaimer.”
May you like
I sat with that.
For some reason, knowing I could not simply fix things made me feel both trapped and relieved.
