Chapter 6 - Unraveling the Trust
For the next two days, my life became paperwork.
Julia requested court filings.
Elena gave me shifts at the bakery.
Zach began visiting after school, proudly informing everyone who asked that I had helped him survive his doctor appointment despite the complete absence of needles.
Michael came and went.
Never crowding me.
Never asking personal questions I was not ready to answer.
Yet somehow I learned things about him.
He drank coffee black.
He hated raisins.
He answered every call from Zach no matter who he was meeting.
He sent Elena flowers on the anniversary of their mother’s death even though Elena complained that flowers were impractical.
And the frightening criminal mastermind I had imagined seemed, in daily life, mostly to be a man who owned too many companies and slept too little.
On Friday evening, Julia arrived carrying a folder.
Michael was already there.
Elena closed the bakery early.
Something in their faces made my heart begin pounding.
Julia sat across from me.
“I found your father’s will.”
I forgot how to breathe.
“And?”
“It was filed with the court.”
“Regina said he changed it.”
“He did.”
My stomach dropped.
Julia placed the document in front of me.
“The original will left most of his personal property to Regina and his ownership interest in the waterfront building to you.”
I stared at the page.
“The changed one?”
“There is a later document transferring your inheritance into a trust.”
“That doesn’t sound bad.”
“It isn’t necessarily.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
Julia slid another paper toward me.
“The trust was supposed to be controlled jointly by Regina and an independent trustee until your twenty-fifth birthday.”
“I’m twenty-six.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t I receive anything?”
Julia looked at Michael.
He did not answer for her.
She returned her gaze to me.
“Because the independent trustee listed in the document died before your father.”
My confusion deepened.
“Then what happens?”
“Normally, a replacement would be appointed.”
“Was one?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Julia turned another page.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then she pointed to a name.
Angelo Moretti.
Michael’s father.
I stared at it.
“But he died three years ago.”
Michael nodded.
“Yes.”
“What does that mean?”
Julia drew a slow breath.
“It means the trust should have been reviewed when you turned twenty-five, and again when Mr. Moretti died.”
“Why wasn’t it?”
“We don’t know.”
“Does Regina control it?”
“Not automatically.”
I pushed back from the table.
“This makes no sense.”
Michael leaned forward.
“There may be another document.”
I looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“Because my father kept records of everything.”
“Where?”
May you like
His answer came slowly.
“In his private archive.”
