Chapter 5 - Preserve EverythingCamille Brooks listened without interrupting.
That was why Darius trusted her.
They had known each other since college, though Camille had become an estate and commercial-litigation attorney while Darius returned to the family business.
Her office overlooked downtown.
By eleven Monday morning, the rain had cleared.
Darius placed printed screenshots across her conference table.
Camille read every page.
Then she leaned back.
“You need two lawyers.”
Darius frowned.
“I’m talking to one.”
“I don’t handle divorce.”
The word landed heavily.
“I haven’t decided that.”
“You don’t need to today.”
She tapped the screenshots.
“But whether you reconcile or divorce, do not empty accounts, hide assets, threaten anyone, destroy records or start accessing devices that aren’t yours.”
“I photographed messages that were open.”
“Good. Stop there.”
“She gave me the passcode to her regular phone years ago.”
“Still stop.”
Darius nodded.
Camille picked up the trust excerpt.
“This concerns me more immediately.”
“More than my wife sleeping with somebody?”
“Legally? Yes.”
He looked away.
“That doesn’t mean emotionally.”
She studied the provision.
“When did your father sign this?”
“About a year before he died.”
“Do you have the complete trust?”
“No.”
“Who does?”
“My mother.”
“And probably the drafting attorney.”
Darius knew the name.
Samuel Reed, a respected estate lawyer who had represented Leonard for decades.
“Can we get it?”
“If you are a beneficiary, likely yes. If the document says you become co-trustee at thirty-five, there may be notice obligations.”
“My mother said she was waiting until my birthday.”
“That could be proper depending on the terms.”
“She hid transfers.”
“That may not be.”
Camille circled Greenhouse Holdings.
“Related-party investments are not automatically illegal. Trustees can sometimes invest in entities they control if the trust permits it, if they disclose appropriately, if the transaction is prudent and if they avoid prohibited self-dealing.”
“Did any of that sound like my mother?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Darius hated the lawyerly answer because it was honest.
Camille continued.
“The important thing is records. We do not accuse people of stealing three hundred thousand dollars because your wife photographed a spreadsheet.”
“So what do we do?”
“Ask.”
“My mother won’t cooperate.”
“Then we ask formally.”
Darius looked through the window.
“I run that company.”
“You run operations.”
He turned.
“You sound like her.”
“I sound like your lawyer.”
Camille slid the trust excerpt toward him.
“This suggests that your mother may control interests you will soon share fiduciary authority over. That’s not the same as owning everything.”
Darius thought of every meeting in which Denise had said my company.
He had never challenged her.
“What about the refinancing?”
“Do not sabotage it out of anger.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good. But do not sign anything you haven’t independently reviewed either.”
“That could delay it.”
“Yes.”
“And people could lose jobs.”
“Yes.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“So she trapped me.”
“No.”
Camille’s voice became firm.
“Be careful with that thought. A deadline is pressure. It is not a command.”
Darius looked at her.
“You still get to choose what you sign.”
For the first time since Friday night, something inside him steadied.
Camille made several calls.
Samuel Reed had retired two years earlier, but his firm still maintained Leonard’s estate files.
Cole Property Group’s outside accountant agreed to provide Darius records within the authority of his operational role.
Camille also recommended a family-law attorney, Erica Hall.
Before Darius left, Camille stopped him.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“Your wife’s affair and your mother’s trust administration are separate issues.”
“They don’t feel separate.”
“They may intersect. But don’t let either woman use one to explain away the other.”
Darius thought about Monique saying Denise had manipulated her.
He thought about Denise saying Monique had blackmailed her.
Both might be true.
Neither erased what the other had done.
Camille handed him a legal pad.
“Write down everything you remember before people start revising history.”
That afternoon Darius sat alone in Terrence’s guest room.
He wrote dates.
Hotels.
Messages.
Transfers.
The second phone.
Adrian.
Then he wrote something else.
Three months earlier, Denise had brought documents to his office.
She had needed signatures for a lender package.
Darius had been rushing to a construction site.
He signed electronically without reading every page.
He remembered Denise standing over his shoulder.
“Trust me,” she had said.
Darius stared at the words on the legal pad.
He opened his email and searched the lender’s name.
A PDF appeared.
Executed Ownership Consent.
His signature was at the bottom.
He opened the document.
It authorized transactions involving three company properties.
Beside his name was a title he had never used.
Beneficial Owner Representative — Leonard Cole Family Trust.
Darius stopped breathing.
If he had supposedly represented the trust months ago, why had Denise spent years telling him he had no authority until thirty-five?
He forwarded the PDF to Camille.
Her response came four minutes later.
Do not sign anything else. We need the original execution record immediately.
Then another message arrived.
Darius, did you actually sign this document?
He looked at the signature.
It resembled his.
But the timestamp placed him on an airplane to Atlanta.
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He had not signed it.
Someone else had.
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