Chapter 3 - The Weight of the Will
"Watch your tongue, Chloe," Richard warned, his voice dropping to a low, menacing purr that resonated across the marble floors.
"Accusations like that require proof, and right now, you are standing on property to which you no longer hold a single square inch of legal title."
Chloe’s hand tightened around the brass door handle. The metal felt like ice against her palm, grounding her amid the surreal nightmare unfolding around her.
"I don't need proof yet," Chloe said, her voice steadying with a sudden surge of adrenaline.
"The police will want proof of how a healthy woman collapses of sudden cardiac arrest two days after changing her will in favor of her husband’s mistress."
Victoria let out a sharp, dismissive breath, though her fingers twitched against her side.
"The autopsy report is already signed, sealed, and delivered by the county coroner, darling. Natural causes. Acute heart failure brought on by severe pre-existing hypertension. There is nothing to investigate."
"How convenient," Chloe muttered, her eyes darting to her father.
"And you just happened to be standing by with a pen and a new deed."
Richard stepped closer, his imposing frame casting a long shadow over the white marble.
"You are grieving, Chloe, and your grief is making you irrational. I suggest you take your bag, go stay with your aunt in Seattle, and let the adults handle the estate."
"My aunt?" Chloe’s eyes widened in sudden realization.
"You haven't even told her, have you? That's why her phone goes straight to voicemail—you've blocked her number on the house landline, and you took my phone from my room while I was at the hospital!"
Victoria’s lips parted slightly, a micro-expression of surprise flashing across her face before she schooling her features back into neutral territory.
Richard did not flinch, but the muscle in his jaw ticked once.
"Your security privileges have been revoked," Richard admitted coldly, abandoning any pretense of paternal concern.
"You are a liability to the ongoing restructuring of the family assets. You sign the non-disclosure and the voluntary relinquishment waiver by midnight, or you face immediate eviction with nothing—not even your mother’s jewelry."
Chloe stared at her father, realizing with horrifying clarity that the man standing before her was not her father at all, but a stranger wearing his skin.
She opened the heavy door behind her, stepping out onto the portico just as a sleek black sedan pulled up the long, winding driveway, its high beams cutting through the gathering dusk to illuminate a familiar figure stepping out from the passenger side.
May you like
Chloe froze as the car door opened and a tall man in a rumpled trench coat stepped out, holding a manila folder embossed with the seal of the state prosecutor's office.
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