Chapter 3 - The Successor Trustee
Damon arrived at Cole House at 11:18 p.m.
He entered through the front door with a lawyer.
Not Harrison Vale.
Another attorney.
That told Malcolm something.
Damon had prepared.
He walked into the library and stared at Evelyn.
“Aunt Evelyn.”
“Damon.”
“Are you okay?”
She almost laughed.
“Apparently that depends on which document you’re reading.”
Damon glanced toward Malcolm.
“You called me like the building was on fire.”
“You planned to file an incapacity petition against my mother tomorrow.”
Damon stopped.
Then looked at Celeste.
She looked away.
Malcolm saw it.
“You knew he knew?”
Celeste said nothing.
Damon removed his coat.
“Can we discuss this like adults?”
“That would have required telling me.”
“It wasn’t corporate business.”
“You named yourself successor trustee of shares worth nearly six hundred million dollars.”
Damon’s lawyer shifted.
Damon sighed.
“I didn’t name myself. Uncle Samuel did.”
Evelyn answered.
“As successor if I die or resign.”
“Or become incapable.”
“That clause exists.”
Malcolm held up the petition.
“Who asked Harrison to draft this?”
Damon looked at Evelyn.
“We have concerns.”
“We?”
“The trust counsel. Some board members. Me.”
Celeste stared toward the fireplace.
Malcolm noticed the omission.
“And Celeste?”
Damon paused.
“She expressed concern.”
Malcolm smiled without humor.
“Of course.”
Evelyn stood.
“What exactly have I done?”
Damon’s expression softened.
“You’ve missed meetings.”
“One.”
“Three.”
Evelyn blinked.
“No.”
Damon opened a file.
“Foundation finance committee. August fourteenth.”
“I was told it was canceled.”
“Trust valuation conference. August twenty-seventh.”
“My driver took me to Harrison’s office at four. Nobody was there.”
“The meeting was two.”
Evelyn’s face changed.
Damon continued.
“And the September second board dinner.”
“I had that scheduled for September third.”
Silence.
Malcolm looked at his mother.
Then Damon.
“All scheduling communications need to be preserved.”
Damon frowned.
“For what?”
“Because somebody may be giving her false information.”
Celeste shook her head.
“This is becoming paranoid.”
Nia was still beside the door.
Malcolm noticed her exhaustion.
“You can go home.”
She nodded.
“Thank you.”
Celeste looked at her.
“And Bellmont will hear from us.”
Malcolm turned.
“No.”
Celeste stared.
“She publicly confronted a guest.”
“She protected my mother.”
“She embarrassed me.”
“You embarrassed yourself.”
Celeste’s mouth opened.
Malcolm continued.
“Nia gets paid for every minute she has been kept here.”
Nia whispered,
“Thank you.”
As she turned, Evelyn said,
“Nia.”
She stopped.
“Thank you.”
Nia smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
Then she left.
Celeste watched her go.
Something in her expression bothered Malcolm.
Not anger.
Calculation.
He returned to Damon.
“You have forty-eight hours.”
“For what?”
“To give me every document, message, calendar entry, and communication relating to my mother’s alleged incapacity.”
Damon’s lawyer stepped forward.
“My client will respond through appropriate channels.”
Malcolm stared at him.
“Then appropriate channels start now.”
Damon laughed.
“You’re acting like CEO.”
“No.”
Malcolm looked toward Evelyn.
“I’m acting like her son.”
Damon’s face hardened.
“That’s exactly the problem.”
“What?”
“You think this is family drama.”
He gestured toward the trust papers.
“It isn’t.”
“What is it?”
“A governance crisis.”
Evelyn stiffened.
Damon continued.
“Your mother controls a voting block large enough to derail Marlowe.”
“She hasn’t opposed Marlowe.”
“She told Harrison she had questions.”
“Questions are not incapacity.”
“No.”
“But instability is.”
Malcolm stepped closer.
“Say that again.”
Damon didn’t retreat.
“You’ve been gone, Malcolm.”
“Gone where?”
“New York. Chicago. London. Dallas.”
Damon pointed toward the mansion.
“You don’t see her every day.”
Celeste said softly,
“He’s right.”
Malcolm turned.
She continued.
“I do.”
Evelyn looked at her.
“You come here twice a week.”
“And I see things.”
“Like what?”
Celeste hesitated.
Malcolm waited.
“You forgot my engagement dinner.”
Evelyn frowned.
“No.”
“You arrived an hour late.”
“My invitation said eight.”
“It was seven.”
Again.
Another time discrepancy.
Malcolm felt cold.
“Show me the invitation.”
Evelyn looked toward the desk.
“I kept it.”
She retrieved another cream card from a drawer.
Malcolm read it.
Eight p.m.
Celeste stared.
“That isn’t the invitation we sent.”
Damon looked at it.
“Where did that come from?”
Evelyn’s voice shook.
“It was mailed to me.”
Malcolm turned the envelope over.
No handwriting.
Printed label.
Correct mansion address.
Postmarked Nashville.
Damon’s confidence changed.
For the first time, he looked uncertain.
Celeste moved toward him.
“It could have been a printer mistake.”
Damon did not answer.
Malcolm watched them both.
Then Evelyn spoke.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“My jewelry.”
Celeste closed her eyes briefly.
Malcolm saw.
“What jewelry?”
“The sapphire brooch Samuel gave me.”
“You lost it?”
“That is what everyone keeps saying.”
Evelyn looked at Celeste.
“But I didn’t lose it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because two days after it disappeared, I saw it.”
The room went still.
“Where?”
Evelyn looked straight at Celeste.
“In her dressing room.”
Celeste’s face changed.
“That is a lie.”
Evelyn stepped forward.
“No.”
Her voice strengthened.
“You told me I must have imagined it.”
Malcolm looked at Celeste.
She snapped,
“I have sapphire jewelry.”
“Was it my mother’s brooch?”
“No.”
Evelyn answered immediately.
“Yes.”
Celeste laughed.
“You’re proving the petition for them.”
Malcolm’s expression darkened.
“That sentence was interesting.”
Celeste realized too late.
“What?”
“You didn’t say she was wrong.”
He took one step closer.
“You said she was proving the petition.”
Nobody spoke.
The case was no longer about whether Evelyn had misplaced a brooch.
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