Chapter 2 - The Woman Who StayedThe attorney arrived at exactly six.
His name was Harold Bennett.
He had represented Rosemary for twenty-seven years.
He carried a leather briefcase and wore the expression of a man who had delivered difficult news many times before.
Tristan stood when he entered.
“Mr. Bennett.”
“Tristan.”
They shook hands.
Amber remained seated.
I stood beside the altar.
Harold looked at Rosemary's photograph.
“She would have wanted this.”
Tristan's voice cracked.
“Why didn't she tell me she was dying?”
Harold looked at him.
“She tried.”
“I was working.”
“She knew.”
“I couldn't leave Vancouver.”
Harold's expression hardened.
“You couldn't leave Vancouver for your mother.”
Tristan looked away.
Nobody spoke.
Harold opened his briefcase.
“I have the original will.”
He placed a thick document on the table.
Tristan sat down.
Amber leaned forward.
I remained standing.
Harold began reading.
Rosemary's assets included the house.
Three investment accounts.
Two commercial properties.
A retirement portfolio.
And a life insurance policy.
The estimated total exceeded six million dollars.
Amber's eyes widened.
Tristan stared at the documents.
“I thought Mom didn't have anything.”
Harold looked at him.
“She had quite a lot.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“She did.”
Tristan said nothing.
Harold continued.
“Under the terms of the will, the Maple Avenue house is transferred to Shelby Hayes.”
Tristan shot to his feet.
“What?”
Amber gasped.
I didn't move.
“The investment accounts are placed into a charitable trust.”
Harold continued.
“The commercial properties are to be sold, with proceeds divided between several medical charities and the caregivers' foundation established by Mrs. Hayes.”
Tristan stared at me.
“Caregivers' foundation?”
I nodded.
“My mother-in-law created it during her final months.”
He looked confused.
“She didn't have a foundation.”
“She does now.”
Harold turned another page.
“And there is one additional condition.”
Tristan's voice became sharp.
“What condition?”
“If Tristan Hayes contests the will, his inheritance is reduced to one dollar.”
Silence.
Amber looked at Tristan.
“What inheritance?”
Harold answered.
“His mother left him one dollar.”
Tristan stared at him.
“You're joking.”
“I never joke about estate documents.”
He handed him the page.
“You were provided for.”
Tristan laughed bitterly.
“One dollar?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Harold looked at me.
Then back at him.
“Because your mother believed you had already received everything she could give you.”
Tristan's jaw tightened.
“What does that mean?”
Harold opened another envelope.
“She wrote you a letter.”
Tristan stared at it.
His hands shook as he opened it.
He began reading.
His eyes moved slowly.
Then faster.
And finally stopped.
I watched his face collapse.
“What did she say?”
He couldn't answer.
Amber reached for the letter.
He pulled it away.
“No.”
She frowned.
“Why not?”
“Because it's mine.”
He looked at me.
“Shelby…”
I waited.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“She knew about Amber.”
My heart remained steady.
“She knew.”
He stared at me.
“How?”
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I answered:
“Because she hired a private investigator.”
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