This one wasn’t from the estate.
It was a bank statement.
My bank statement.
My old savings account.
The account containing the three thousand dollars my father had taken.
I stared at the numbers.
Then I noticed something.
There were transactions I didn’t recognize.
“What’s this?”
Richard pointed at the withdrawals.
“Your father didn’t spend your money on your brother’s applications.”
My jaw tightened.
“Then what did he spend it on?”
Richard turned the page.
“Legal fees.”
I looked at him.
“Legal fees for what?”
“His attempt to gain control of your grandfather’s company.”
I felt something inside me crack.
He had taken every dollar I had.
Not for my brother.
Not for rent.
Not for food.
For himself.
Richard continued.
“And that’s why your grandfather included another clause.”
I looked at him.
“What clause?”
Richard slid a final sheet toward me.
“This one.”
I read it.
Then I read it again.
My father’s name appeared in the middle of the page.
Underneath it was a sentence that made my blood run cold.
If Daniel Brooks has knowingly concealed this inheritance from Nathan Brooks, interfered with correspondence, or misappropriated Nathan’s personal funds, he shall receive nothing from the Brooks estate and shall be subject to legal action.
I looked up slowly.
“So my father loses everything?”
“If the evidence holds, yes.”
I couldn’t speak.
Richard leaned closer.
“And there is more.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course there is.”
He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small black flash drive.
“Your grandfather left this for you.”
“What is it?”
“A recording.”
“Of what?”
Richard’s expression became serious.
“Your father.”
My heart stopped.
“When was it recorded?”
“Two months ago.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Your grandfather knew he was dying.”
I stared at the flash drive.
“What did he record?”
Richard didn’t answer.
Instead, he handed me his phone.
A video was already open.
I pressed play.
The screen showed a conference room.
My father sat at a long table.
Across from him was an older man I recognized immediately.
James Brooks.
