Chapter 6 - THE PAGE THEY TOOK
It took me less than thirty seconds to figure out which document was gone.
Ethan’s grandmother’s trust summary remained.
The beneficiary notice remained.
A copy of Ethan’s death certificate remained.
What was missing was the one-page successor-trustee acceptance Ethan had signed six months before he died, naming me as alternate trustee for Lily’s inherited interest if Ethan was unable to serve.
Vanessa didn’t know the language, but she knew enough to take the page that contained my authority.
“You took a legal document.”
Vanessa laughed too quickly.
“I don’t have anything.”
“Then empty your pockets.”
“Excuse me?”
Harold stepped forward.
“You’re not accusing my daughter of theft over a paper she wouldn’t even understand.”
I looked directly at him.
“Then why did she call me downstairs from your room phone?”
He had no answer to that.
Diane went pale.
And I knew then that Vanessa hadn’t acted entirely alone.
Maybe the plan had been hers.
Maybe the permission had been his.
But the room had been full of adults, and none of them had thought a child alone in a hotel hallway would matter as much as getting that page.
I put my hand out.
“Give it back.”
Vanessa held my gaze.
For one second, I thought she would bluff.
Then Marisol spoke quietly from the doorway.
“Ma’am, when the front desk called me, they also told me security can pull the hall camera if needed.”
Vanessa’s head turned.
Good.
Fear at last.
I took one step closer.
“Give it back before I make this a police report, a hotel incident report, and a trust-fraud complaint.”
Bravado drains quickly when people realize the audience is no longer just family.
Vanessa pulled a folded page from the pocket of her cover-up and slapped it onto the bed.
I picked it up.
Uncreased except where she had jammed it into the fabric.
“Why?” I asked.
This time Diane answered.
“Because Harold was supposed to remain involved.”
I looked at her.
“No. Harold assumed he would remain involved.”
Harold’s face darkened.
“You have no right to cut Lily off from her family.”
That sentence was so shameless it almost made me laugh.
“I’m not the one who locked her out in a hallway.”
He flinched.
May you like
Only slightly.
But enough.
