Rosalind’s face went pale. “You’re saying if one person quits, we all lose everything.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Warren said. “This is an all-or-nothing condition, and as trustee, your mother is legally obligated to enforce it. She has no discretion to bend the rules or make exceptions.”
He looked at me. I nodded.
“The trust document is ironclad,” Warren continued. “Your father worked with me to ensure there are no loopholes. Twenty-five consecutive nights, all five daughters, or the entire inheritance goes to charity.”
Aurelia spoke quietly. “What if there’s an emergency?”
“The trust terms make no exceptions for emergencies,” Warren said. “I advised your father against this, but he was adamant.”
Naomi looked at me. “Mom, did you agree to this?”
“Yes,” I said.
“And you’ll actually enforce it. You’d let us lose everything.”
“I don’t have a choice,” I said. “The trust is irrevocable. I’m legally bound to follow your father’s instructions.”
Rosalind stood. “This is manipulation.”
“It’s the law,” Warren said flatly.
He handed each daughter a copy of the trust document.
“You have twenty-four hours to decide,” he said. “If you agree, the first reading will take place tomorrow night at seven p.m. at the family home. If any of you choose not to participate, I’ll begin the process of transferring the funds to the foundation.”
One by one, they took the papers and left.
I stayed behind.
Warren closed his briefcase. “Are you sure about this?”
“No,” I said. “But my husband was.”
Warren nodded.
I walked out and watched my daughters drive away.
Twenty-four hours.
“Let’s see if they show up,” I thought.
Day one. Seven p.m.
All five of them sat in the living room waiting. They came back, not because they wanted to hear what their father had to say, but because they couldn’t afford to lose one million dollars.
I sat in the armchair by the window watching.
They were on the couch—Naomi on one end, Rosalind beside her, then Celeste, Violet, Aurelia on the other end. Not touching. Not looking at each other. Just sitting there in silence.
The house felt different with them in it. Heavier.
At seven exactly, there was a knock at the door.
I stood up and opened it. Warren was holding a black leather briefcase. He stepped inside, nodded at me, then walked into the living room.
“Good evening,” he said to my daughters.
Nobody answered.
Warren set the briefcase on the coffee table, opened it, and pulled out the first envelope.
“Envelope number one.”
He looked at me. I nodded.
Warren opened it carefully, pulled out a single sheet of paper, and began to read.
“If you’re reading this, I’m gone. And you’re here because you want money, not because you loved me. I know that. Your mother knows that. But I’m giving you one last chance. Twenty-five letters, twenty-five truths. If you can read them all, maybe you’ll change. Maybe you won’t. But at least I tried. —Dad.”
Warren folded the letter and set it on the table.
Silence.
I watched my daughters. Watched their faces.
Naomi’s eyes were wet. She wiped at them quickly. But I knew better. Those weren’t real tears.
Rosalind stared at the floor, face blank, cold.
Celeste stood up suddenly. “I need some air.” She walked to the window and stood there with her arms crossed, staring out at the street.
continued on next page
For complete cooking times, go to the next page or click the Open button (>), and don't forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
