Chương 4
That sentence hurt him.
Claire wished it didn’t have to.
His phone rang again.
This time the caller was Daniel Rosen, the attorney who had handled Thomas Bennett’s estate.
Michael answered.
“Daniel.”
He listened.
Claire watched his expression.
“When?”
Another pause.
“No. Don’t send anything yet.”
He hung up.
“What?”
“Mom called him at seven this morning.”
“About what?”
“She wants copies of every original document connected to Dad’s estate moved from his office archive to her attorney.”
Claire felt cold.
“Can she do that?”
“She can request it.”
“Why today?”
Michael looked at her.
Neither needed to answer.
They drove directly to Rosen’s office in downtown Boston.
Daniel Rosen was sixty-eight, narrow-shouldered, careful, and visibly unhappy to see them.
He had known Michael since Michael was fourteen.
That made the meeting worse.
Daniel closed his office door.
“Your mother asked me not to discuss this with anyone.”
Michael sat down.
“I’m a beneficiary.”
“You are.”
“And an officer of Bennett Holdings.”
“You are.”
“So discuss it.”
Daniel looked at Claire.
“Does she need to be here?”
“Yes.”
Claire almost thanked Michael.
She didn’t.
Daniel removed his glasses.
“What exactly do you believe happened?”
Michael put the photocopied death certificate on his desk.
Daniel stared at it.
Then he reached for his glasses again.
“Where did you get this?”
“Is it real?”
“This is not the certificate filed with the Commonwealth.”
Claire leaned forward.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because this isn’t how the filed certificate looks.”
Michael exhaled.
For one brief moment, relief moved through him.
Then Daniel said, “But the signature is familiar.”
The relief disappeared.
“What does that mean?”
Daniel opened a drawer, stopped, then closed it.
Michael noticed.
“What’s in there?”
“Nothing relevant.”
“Daniel.”
The older man rubbed his forehead.
“Your father came to see me on May eleventh.”
Claire felt Michael go still beside her.
“After Sophie’s concert?”
“I don’t know where he had been.”
“What did he want?”
Daniel looked at the closed door.
“He wanted to revise the Bennett Family Trust.”
Michael sat back.
“Why?”
“He believed there had been unauthorized transfers.”
“By Mom?”
“He did not say.”
“What transfers?”
“I advised him to bring in a forensic accountant before making accusations.”
“Did he?”
“He said he already had.”
Claire said, “Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You represented him.”
“I represented the estate planning work. Thomas had several attorneys.”
Michael leaned forward.
“What did he change?”
Daniel was silent.
“Daniel.”
“He didn’t.”
“What?”
“He never signed the revision.”
“Why not?”
“He asked me to prepare it. We scheduled a signing for May fifteenth.”
The day after Thomas died.
Michael looked at the floor.
Claire said, “What would the revision have done?”
Daniel hesitated.
Then he opened the drawer.
He removed a thin folder.
Inside was an unsigned draft.
Michael read the first page.
His eyes stopped.
“Sophie?”
Claire leaned closer.
The draft established a separate trust for Sophie Bennett.
Not for Michael.
Not for Claire.
For Sophie.
The initial funding amount was five million dollars.
Claire sat back.
“That makes no sense.”
Daniel said, “Thomas had his reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“He didn’t tell me.”
Michael turned pages.
The trust was designed to receive a minority interest in Bennett Holdings when Sophie turned twenty-five, with an independent trustee until then.
Michael looked up.
“Why her?”
“I asked.”
“And?”
“He said, ‘Because she may be the only one who needs protection from us.’”
Claire felt something tighten beneath her ribs.
“Us?”
“That was his word.”
Michael stood.
He walked to the window.
Below them, traffic crawled through wet streets.
“My father thought my seven-year-old daughter needed protection from his family.”
“She was six at the time.”
Michael turned sharply.
Daniel raised one hand.
“I’m not correcting you to be pedantic. I’m telling you because timing may matter.”
Claire said, “Why?”
Daniel looked at her.
“Because Thomas asked me another question that day.”
“What?”
“He asked what happens to a trust established for a child if paternity is later disputed.”
Michael did not move.
Claire couldn’t breathe.
Daniel immediately said, “I have no idea why he asked.”
Michael turned toward Claire.
She shook her head.
“No.”
He said nothing.
“No.”
“Claire—”
“Sophie is your daughter.”
“I didn’t say she wasn’t.”
“You looked at me.”
“I looked at you because my father apparently—”
“Your father was wrong.”
Daniel stood.
“This is precisely why I did not want to speculate.”
Claire’s hands were shaking now.
She put them under the table.
Michael saw anyway.
“Claire.”
“No.”
He lowered his voice.
“I believe you.”
She stared at him.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
It came too quickly.
She hated that too.
Daniel said, “There may be another explanation.”
Michael turned on him.
“Then find it.”
“I’m not an investigator.”
“You knew Dad was worried about something.”
“I knew he wanted to amend his trust.”
“And you told Mom?”
Daniel’s silence answered.
Michael’s voice dropped.
“When?”
“After his death.”
“Why?”
“She was his surviving spouse and executor.”
“You told her about Sophie’s trust.”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell her about the paternity question?”
Daniel looked sick.
“Yes.”
Claire stood.
She needed air.
She walked into the hallway before either man could stop her.
Michael followed.
“Claire.”
She kept walking.
“Claire.”
At the elevator she turned.
“I never cheated on you.”
“I know.”
“Not once.”
“I know.”
“Sophie is yours.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know when your face says you’re doing math.”
His mouth opened.
Closed.
That hurt more.
Claire pressed the elevator button.
Michael said, “Dad asked the question.”
“Then your father had a reason.”
“Exactly.”
“And you think the reason was me.”
“I don’t know what the reason was.”
The elevator opened.
An elderly man stepped out carrying a coffee and moved around them with an apologetic glance.
Claire entered.
Michael followed.
Neither spoke until the doors closed.
Then Michael said, “I want a DNA test.”
Claire stared at him.
He looked miserable.
She wanted to slap him.
Instead she said, “Okay.”
His surprise made her angrier.
“Okay?”
“Yes.”
May you like
“Claire—”
“You want certainty? Get it.”
