Chapter 6 - The Will My Sister Believed Was Real
Chloe had always believed Grandma loved me more.
It wasn't true.
Grandma loved us differently.
I was older.
Quiet.
Interested in the business.
I spent summers helping her file receipts and organize restoration projects.
Chloe loved art.
Fashion.
Parties.
She hated the company office.
Grandma paid for her design classes and encouraged her to open a boutique.
When the boutique failed, Grandma helped her find work.
But Chloe never forgave the fact that I inherited the controlling shares.
“She gave you everything,” Chloe once told me.
“She gave us different things.”
“Easy for you to say.”
I thought we'd moved past that argument.
Apparently, Ethan had found a way to keep it alive.
Margaret arranged for Chloe's attorney to provide the document she claimed Ethan had shown her.
It was a purported earlier version of Grandma's will.
The document stated that Chloe would receive a substantial interest in Bellamy Restoration Group.
The signature looked convincing.
The formatting resembled Margaret's firm's standard documents.
But Margaret immediately noticed problems.
The witness information didn't match her records.
The document number was inconsistent.
And the supposed signing date fell during a period when Grandma was recovering from surgery and had not held the meeting the document described.
Margaret arranged for the document to be examined.
Then she called me.
“Emma, this is not a will my office prepared.”
I stared.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Could Grandma have used another attorney?”
“We're verifying all relevant records, but several features of this document are inconsistent with an authentic instrument.”
I closed my eyes.
Ethan had apparently promised Chloe a fortune.
Then used that promise to turn her against me.
It didn't excuse her.
She'd still lied.
Still stood on the porch.
Still watched me bleed.
But now I understood why she thought I was the one stealing from her.
For years, Ethan had been feeding us different versions of the same story.
To me, Chloe was irresponsible and jealous.
To Chloe, I was greedy and controlling.
To Victoria, I was the obstacle between her son and the fortune he deserved.
He'd made sure none of us compared notes.
Until the brick.
Three days later, Chloe asked to see me.
I refused.
Not because I didn't want answers.
Because I wasn't ready to sit across from her and pretend an apology could erase everything.
Margaret arranged for any relevant information to be provided through counsel.
Chloe gave investigators the messages Ethan had sent her.
Photographs.
Financial promises.
Copies of the questionable will.
Then she provided something I hadn't expected.
A recording.
Ethan speaking inside the Manhattan apartment.
His voice was unmistakable.
“Once Emma signs, you get your shares.”
Chloe asked:
“And what happens to her?”
Ethan laughed.
“She gets a check and disappears.”
I stared at the transcript.
My husband had spent months planning a future in which I simply stopped existing in his life.
Not through divorce alone.
Through losing my home.
My company.
My family.
Everything Grandma left me.
That afternoon, Rebecca found me sitting beside the hospital window.
She looked at the papers.
“More bad news?”
I smiled weakly.
“Apparently, Ethan promised Chloe half the company.”
Rebecca raised an eyebrow.
“With whose permission?”
I laughed.
“Exactly.”
She sat beside me.
Then asked:
“What are you going to do about her?”
I thought.
“I don't know.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Fair.”
I looked down.
“I loved her.”
“I know.”
“I still do.”
“I know.”
I stared at the window.
“That doesn't mean I trust her.”
Rebecca squeezed my hand.
“No.”
For the first time, I understood that loving someone and giving them access to my life were two separate decisions.
Grandma had tried to teach me that.
I was finally listening.
The financial investigation continued.
Independent accountants traced suspicious payments from Bellamy Restoration Group to Alderstone and several other entities.
Records associated with Ethan's executive office appeared repeatedly.
The board expanded the investigation and reviewed whether criminal referrals and civil recovery actions were warranted.
The company's employees were informed that operations would continue and that an independent team was examining the disputed transactions.
I asked Judith to make sure payroll was protected.
She promised to prioritize it.
Then she said:
“Emma, there's something else.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“We found a proposed sale agreement.”
“For what?”
“The company's historic properties division.”
I stopped breathing.
That division was Grandma's pride.
It restored old libraries, theaters, schools, and historic homes across New England.
It employed nearly two hundred people.
I looked at Judith.
“Who was buying it?”
She hesitated.
“A company connected to Alderstone.”
I stared.
Ethan wasn't merely trying to take control of Bellamy Restoration Group.
He'd been planning to strip away its most valuable operations and move them into businesses controlled by his family.
I closed my eyes.
Then opened them.
“Has anything been signed?”
“The proposed transfer wasn't completed.”
Relief flooded through me.
Judith continued.
“But Ethan scheduled the closing for Friday.”
I stared.
Friday.
The same day he wanted the divorce settlement finalized.
Everything was connected.
The affair.
The forged will.
The company transfers.
The brick.
Every piece of the same plan.
Then my phone vibrated.
Margaret.
I answered.
“Emma?”
“Yes?”
“There's one more thing in your grandmother's safe.”
My heart tightened.
“What?”
“A sealed envelope marked for you and Chloe.”
I closed my eyes.
“What does it say?”
May you like
Margaret paused.
“I think you'd better read it yourself.”
