Chapter 3 - THE WILL DOESN'T MAKE ETHAN RICH TODAY
The sealed leather case did contain Walter's will.
It did not contain a magical transfer of Bennett Alder Capital.
Ethan learned that within ten minutes.
He appreciated it.
Walter owned twenty-eight percent of the private firm through the Bennett Family Partnership.
His current estate plan directed most of his remaining wealth to:
A charitable foundation.
An employee retirement trust.
Several named relatives.
And one family trust created for:
Any living descendant of Anna Elizabeth Bennett, if independently established.
Not Ethan by name.
Not yet.
No board chairmanship.
No private jet.
No instant control over people who had been his supervisors that morning.
Dana explained:
“If you're Anna's son, you may eventually become a beneficiary of the Bennett Descendant Trust.”
“How much?”
Ethan asked.
Walter looked uncomfortable.
Dana did not.
“Potentially significant.”
“That isn't a number.”
“No.”
Walter said:
“Because the number changes.”
Ethan looked at him.
“And because you don't want me reacting to a number.”
Walter almost smiled.
“Yes.”
“That part of me you apparently know?”
“No.”
Walter leaned back.
“That part of myself.”
Good.
Ethan looked toward the conference-room windows.
Richard had been asked to remain outside pending HR.
Walter's second attorney, Joel Greene, opened a folder.
Birth records.
Marriage certificate.
Anna Bennett legally became Anna Parker in 2004.
Ethan's Massachusetts birth certificate listed:
Mother: Anna Elizabeth Parker.
Father: Daniel Michael Parker.
Ethan did not need a DNA test to know who raised him.
Legal lineage to Walter could be established through records, though Dana still recommended independent verification because enormous estates attract litigation.
Ethan asked:
“When did you find this?”
“Twenty-three days ago.”
Walter answered.
Ethan looked at him sharply.
“And you waited?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Walter looked toward his old coat.
“I wanted to meet you before you met my money.”
Ethan laughed.
“You came dressed like that on purpose.”
“Yes.”
“Sat in your own lobby looking homeless.”
“I never said I was homeless.”
“That isn't better.”
Walter took it.
He explained.
He had been scheduled upstairs at four-thirty to review the estate documents.
He asked Dana and Joel to wait.
Then entered through the public lobby without his driver.
His old overcoat had belonged to a time before people recognized him from annual reports.
The rain had done the rest.
“I wanted ten minutes.”
“To test me.”
“No.”
Ethan's expression hardened.
Walter corrected himself.
“I told myself it wasn't a test.”
“Was it?”
Walter looked at him.
“Partly.”
There.
“I wanted to see you when my name wasn't in the room.”
Ethan's anger rose.
“And what if I'd walked past?”
“I would still have told you who I was.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
That answer surprised him.
Walter continued.
“I didn't plan Richard.”
“Convenient.”
“Yes.”
“I didn't plan to fire myself.”
“No.”
“I didn't plan to feed you.”
“No.”
Walter looked ashamed now.
“When he tore your badge off, I reacted.”
“With ‘I found my heir.’”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand how insane that sounded?”
“I'm beginning to.”
Ethan looked at Dana.
“Does this affect my job?”
“It should not.”
“Should?”
“We'll separate employment from estate matters.”
Good.
Ethan turned back to Walter.
“My mother never wanted your money.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“She returned it.”
The words landed.
“What did you send?”
“Everything I thought would solve what I had broken.”
“What had you broken?”
Walter did not answer immediately.
Then:
“Your father's career.”
Ethan stared.
Walter continued.
“Daniel Parker worked here.”
“I know that.”
“He was terminated in 2005.”
“I know.”
Ethan's voice sharpened.
“My mother said this firm destroyed him.”
Walter did not look away.
“I approved it.”
The room went still.
“Why?”
Walter said:
“Because we believed he leaked confidential client information.”
Ethan stood.
“My father wasn't a thief.”
“I didn't call him one.”
“My mother did.”
Walter froze.
Ethan reached into his wallet.
Behind his driver's license was an old folded piece of paper.
He had carried it since he was seventeen.
Anna's handwriting.
One sentence:
If you ever work for Bennett Alder, never let them tell you your father confessed. He didn't.
Walter stared.
Ethan looked toward the glass wall.
Richard stood outside.
Watching.
Then Ethan said:
“Did his father write the report?”
Walter nodded.
“Thomas Hayes led compliance.”
May you like
Richard's father.
And suddenly Ethan understood why Richard had recognized the Parker name.
