Chapter 8 - My Father’s Old Secret
I drove to my father’s house the next morning.
Amy wanted to come.
I asked her to stay with Frederick and the security officer we had hired.
I did not know what Teresa had taken from Douglas.
I only knew it had frightened Raymond.
My father finally answered the door after I knocked for nearly a minute.
He looked older than I remembered.
“Connor.”
He said.
“We need to talk.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Inside, Douglas sat at the kitchen table.
I remained standing.
“What did you give Mom?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Documents from your grandfather.”
My grandfather, Henry Bradley, had died when I was sixteen.
He owned several small construction businesses and parcels of land around Tennessee.
Most were sold after his death.
Or so I believed.
Douglas opened a drawer.
“Your grandfather created a trust.”
He said.
“For you.”
I stared at him.
“What trust?”
“Your mother wasn’t supposed to know.”
Douglas explained that Henry never trusted Teresa.
Before his death, he placed two undeveloped properties and investment accounts into a trust.
I would receive full control when I turned thirty-five.
I was thirty-four.
“How much?”
I asked.
Douglas looked down.
“Current estimate?”
“About two point three million.”
I almost laughed because the number felt unreal.
“And Mom found out?”
“She suspected it for years.”
Douglas said.
“In May, she told me you were having some kind of breakdown.”
“She said Amy was trying to isolate you.”
“She begged me for paperwork proving the trust existed.”
“And you gave it to her?”
His silence answered.
I felt sick.
“She used you.”
I said.
“I know.”
“No.”
I replied.
“You helped her.”
Douglas looked at me.
Tears filled his eyes.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“Everybody keeps saying that while destroying my family.”
I turned toward the door.
Then Douglas spoke again.
“There’s more.”
I stopped.
“Your mother asked about changing the successor trustee.”
I slowly turned around.
“Who is the successor trustee?”
“Me.”
“And if you couldn’t serve?”
Douglas swallowed.
“Originally?”
“You.”
“That makes no sense.”
I said.
“If the trust is mine—”
“It’s complicated.”
He interrupted.
“Until your thirty-fifth birthday, if I died or became incapacitated, another trustee would temporarily control the assets.”
“Who?”
Douglas stared at the table.
“Your mother convinced me to sign an amendment.”
My heart pounded.
“Who did you name?”
May you like
He whispered the answer.
“Teresa.”
