Chapter 2 - The Gathering of Vultures-2
The legal offices of Vance & Sterling occupied the top floor of a restored historic brick building in downtown Oak Ridge. The conference room featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river, a long mahogany table, and six leather chairs that smelled faintly of polished wood and expensive tobacco.
I sat at the far end of the table wearing a simple black dress, my father's silver fountain pen tucked into my handbag. Beside me, Penelope sat with her laptop open, her face completely expressionless as she reviewed a stack of white documents.
At precisely two o'clock, the door burst open.
Tabitha stepped in first, wearing a bright cream-colored designer pantsuit that seemed entirely inappropriate for a reading of a late father's final wishes. She carried a leather handbag worth more than my car, and her smile was sharp, victorious, and malicious.
Behind her came Calvin, my ex-husband.
At forty-two, Calvin still tried to look like the young, energetic corporate strategist I had married fifteen years ago, but the silver hair around his temples and the deep lines around his eyes betrayed his stress. He wore a tailored charcoal suit, avoiding my eyes as he pulled out a chair for Tabitha.
And finally, my brother, Kyle, walked in.
Kyle looked terrible. His shirt was slightly wrinkled, his face pale and blotchy, and he carried himself with the nervous energy of a man who knew he was doing something dirty but was too deep into it to turn back.
"Good afternoon, Paige," Calvin said, his voice smooth, calculated, and entirely devoid of genuine warmth. "Penelope."
"Sit down, Calvin," Penelope said without looking up from her screen. "We have a lot of ground to cover, and I prefer not to waste time on pleasantries."
Tabitha scoffed, settling into her leather chair and crossing her legs. "Always so formal, Penelope. You know, after today, Calvin and I will be retaining our own corporate firm for the estate management. You won't have to worry about Everett's affairs anymore."
"That is a relief, Tabitha," Penelope replied dryly. "Managing affairs for people with actual ethics takes up most of my schedule anyway."
Tabitha’s smile vanished, her jaw tightening. "Watch your tone."
"Quiet, Tabitha," Calvin warned softly, laying a hand on her knee before looking across the table at me. "Paige... I know this is difficult for you. But your father was sick for a long time. In his final months, he realized that leaving a property of this size to a single person wasn't practical. He wanted to make sure his legacy was properly commercialized and managed."
"Commercialized?" I repeated, my voice steady, cold, and clear. "You mean flattened into a luxury condominium complex, Calvin? Is that what you call his legacy?"
Kyle shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat. "Paige... come on. The house is old. The maintenance costs are fifty thousand a year. Calvin's firm has the capital to redevelop the parcel. We all get a massive payout. It's what Dad would have wanted if he were in his right mind."
"If he were in his right mind?" I turned to look directly at my brother. "You sat beside his bed while he was dying, Kyle. You held his hand while taking money from the man who ruined my life."
"That's enough!" Tabitha interjected, slamming her gel-manicured hand onto the mahogany table. "We didn't come here for a family therapy session! Read the will, Penelope! We have an appointment with our architect at four o'clock!"
Penelope slowly closed her laptop screen. She reached into her briefcase, pulled out a thick document bound in blue paper, and laid it in the center of the table.
"This is the last will and testament presented by Calvin Vance's legal team, dated November 14th of last year," Penelope stated clearly. "It leaves eighty percent of the real estate holdings, including the main house and garden, to Apex Land Developments LLC—a firm owned jointly by Calvin Vance and Kyle Miller."
Tabitha smirked, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. "There. Plain and simple."
"However," Penelope continued smoothly, pulling a second, much thinner document from her folder, "before we discuss the distribution of assets under that document, we must address the primary condition precedent set forth in Everett Miller’s irrevocable master trust."
Calvin’s brow furrowed. "Master trust? Everett didn't have an irrevocable trust. All his personal property was held under his individual name."
"Is that what you thought, Calvin?" I asked softly, leaning forward.
Penelope pressed a key on her laptop, turning the screen toward Calvin and his lawyer, who was sitting quietly in the corner.
"On October 12th—three weeks before you had your paid physician sign that fraudulent dementia assessment—Everett Miller executed a complete transfer of all physical land, corporate shares, and intellectual property into the White Rose Protection Trust," Penelope explained.
Calvin stood up so fast his chair rolled back against the wall. "What?! That's impossible! I checked the county land registry two weeks ago!"
"You checked the public index, Calvin," Penelope smiled thinly. "You didn't check the private corporate registry in Delaware. The house, the land, the rose garden, and every dollar in his liquid accounts do not belong to Everett's personal estate. They belong to the trust."
"Who... who is the sole trustee?" Kyle stammered, his face turning ghostly white.
Penelope looked at me.
May you like
I pulled the silver key from my apron pocket and set it down on the mahogany table with a sharp, heavy clack.
"I am," I said. "And as sole trustee, my first official act is to issue a formal notice of criminal trespass against Calvin Vance, Tabitha Vance, and Kyle Miller regarding the Oak Ridge property."
