Marcus tapped the deed twice. “Don’t make this ugly, Hannah. The estate attorney already explained — as the eldest son, I’m executor. The cabin sells Monday. I’ve got a buyer.” His wife Vivienne smirked into her wine glass. “You can keep the porch swing. Sentimental value.”
I didn’t pick up the pen. Instead I reached into my tote bag and pulled out a slim leather folder of my own. “Before I sign anything, I want you to meet someone.” I tapped my phone. The front door opened, and in walked Eleanor Reyes — Dad’s actual estate attorney for the past twenty-two years. Not the cousin Marcus had been using.
Marcus’s grin slipped. “Who the hell is this?”
Eleanor set down a thick binder. “I’m the executor, Mr. Whitlock. Your father updated his will fourteen months ago, after his second stroke. The cabin, the surrounding eleven acres, and the controlling shares of Whitlock Lumber were placed in an irrevocable trust — naming Hannah as sole beneficiary and trustee.”
The wine glass froze halfway to Vivienne’s lips.
“That’s impossible,” Marcus snapped. “I have the will. Cousin Brent drafted it.”
“Cousin Brent drafted a draft,” Eleanor said gently. “Your father never signed it. He told me, and I quote, ‘Marcus shows up when there’s money. Hannah showed up when there was me.'”
I finally looked up. “The buyer you lined up for Monday? I already called him this morning. Told him the property isn’t for sale. Ever. He was very understanding once I mentioned the forged power of attorney you’ve been waving around.”
Marcus’s face went the color of old paper. “Hannah — wait — we’re family —”
“You’re right.” I slid the unsigned deed back across the table, perfectly centered in front of him. “Which is why I’m not pressing charges. Yet. But you have until Sunday night to be out of Dad’s Boston condo. Eleanor will mail you a list of what’s actually yours. It’s a short list.”
Vivienne stood up so fast her chair scraped. Marcus didn’t move. He just stared at the deed, the way I’d stared at hospital monitors for eighteen months while he posted vacation photos.
I picked up my keys. “Lock the door on your way out. The new code takes effect at midnight.”
