Chapter 7 - THE FRIDAY DEADLINE
My father’s trust underwent an independent review every January.
I knew that.
I never paid attention because Rebecca handled the paperwork.
Friday’s meeting would certify beneficiaries, trustees, and management contracts for another year.
If Noah and I were dead before that meeting, Daniel could have appeared as surviving spouse.
If Daniel died before certification, Rebecca would assume emergency control.
Then Victoria’s company could be appointed to manage the assets before another beneficiary challenge emerged.
Three deaths.
One deadline.
Friday.
Detective Ortiz called it a financial countdown.
I called it proof that someone had studied my family as numbers on a page.
Rebecca came to the hospital that afternoon.
This time police questioned her before she saw me.
She denied knowing Victoria planned violence.
She admitted discussing emergency trustee procedures with her sister.
She admitted Victoria wanted the family office management contract.
She claimed she refused.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I asked.
Rebecca sat across from my bed.
“Because it was a professional disagreement.”
“Your sister wanted access to eighty-four million dollars.”
“And I said no.”
“Then why was she using your house?”
Rebecca’s expression hardened.
“She still has a key.”
“You never changed the locks?”
“She’s my sister.”
I almost laughed at the irony.
Everyone in this story had used family as an excuse for ignoring warning signs.
Then Rebecca surprised me.
“I believe Victoria has someone inside the trust office.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
She opened her briefcase.
“The records Daniel saw were not complete.”
“The actual succession schedule is different.”
She showed me an amendment my father signed six months before his death.
If both Noah and I died under suspicious circumstances, no spouse could inherit directly.
The assets would freeze.
An independent guardian panel would take control.
Daniel’s entire plan could never have worked.
I stared at Rebecca.
“So Victoria lied to him from the beginning.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Rebecca looked toward Detective Ortiz.
“To create the deaths.”
Not the transfer.
The deaths themselves were the goal.
I felt cold.
“Why would she want us dead if she couldn’t get the trust?”
Rebecca slowly opened another folder.
“Because the trust owns something more valuable than cash.”
My father had retained controlling patents and land rights through a technology company he founded quietly with two partners.
The trust’s reported value was eighty-four million.
Its hidden corporate voting rights were potentially worth more than six hundred million after a pending acquisition.
The acquisition vote was scheduled next month.
Noah and I controlled the deciding interest.
If we died, the vote froze.
That would allow another shareholder time to block the acquisition and buy the company cheaply.
“Who?”
I asked.
Rebecca looked at her sister’s financial records.
May you like
“Victoria’s largest private client.”
Billionaire investor Malcolm Voss.
